Divine Words
by klassekatze
Summary: Caster never reached the Temple. As she lay dying, in another time and another place, a small boy collapses as a circle activates that shouldn't exist. Just before the end, Caster is summoned into a world that seems like a mockery of everything she has ever known. But to ten year old Harry, even the Witch of Betrayal is salvation. It certainly can't be worse.
1. Dynamic Entry

Dynamic Entry

She was the last and greatest Magus of the Age of the Gods, a relic out of time. Summoned from outside time and space from the Throne of Heroes to battle to the death as part of an enormous ritual encompassing an entire city, charged with the life force of its inhabitants and fueled by the souls of fallen.

And she was dying.

It had hurt at first. But she couldn't feel anything now. She couldn't hear anything but the sound of her own heart slowing and the patter of the rain. It seemed off to her that she wasn't trying harder to survive, but there wasn't really anything she could do. No magecraft lay within her meagre reserves, no muscles obeyed her mind. All she could do was twitch and stare into the dark. So much easier to just lay here.

It wasn't supposed to end like this. Most of her life, she had been a puppet for the Gods. She'd wanted a second chance. A chance for a life of her own.

But life wasn't fair like that, was it?

She could see her body start to shimmer out of the corner of her eye, losing coherency as the last of her prana bled out on to the road.

It is said that to be a magus was to walk with death. She had accepted that, so long ago. But it was just so monstrously unfair.

...What was that noise?

There was a deep hum, growing louder at an alarming rate. The road seemed to vibrate. Even in her numbed state, she could feel it. Something was reaching out to her -

_if you will submit to this will and this reason... then answer_

She accepted the pull.

Everything went black.

* * *

Medea opened her eyes to a dark room lit only by a red glow. The light flickered dimly from the runes engraved into every surface of the room, fading slowly. She was alone.

Her prana was full again. It took only a word to create a sphere of white light, revealing that the room was in terrible shape. The damage was extensive enough that she didn't see how the runes could even do any sort of thaumaturgy…

She peered at the runes. Most were unrecognizable, but the parts she could understand hinted at time manipulation, as well as the obvious references to souls and such.

Either it was meant to activate on its own, or the summoner was pulled away.

She could feel a connection, though. She had a Master again, or something similar. Hopefully this time it would be someone she could live with.

Medea looked for the exit, only to find there wasn't one. Suspicious. Magi could not teleport, was this intended as a trap?

She cast out her senses. The room was buried.

"**Tροψα.**"

Space warped around her, moving her to the surface, though there was an alarming amount of resistance.

She appeared on a hill in the middle of a city. All it took was a glance to tell her she was in London. While she did not know it personally, Servants were granted any and all "common knowledge" they might need by the Grail, and she had not lost that information even after coming here. The home city of the Clocktower was among it.

"Hey!" someone shouted at her. Medea turned to see several figures in hooded cloaks, as well as a few men and women in archaic robes all pointing wands at her.

She was not stupid enough to wait for magi to attack her. She turned in her Master's direction and did a spatial transport to the limits of her sight. The strange resistance was still there.

Perhaps there was some sort of bounded field intended to stop teleportation?

She shook her head and continued to teleport, wasting prodigious amounts of prana. Finding her Master was important enough not to delay, and if he was unsuitable the heavy draw should make him easier to deal with. The resistance was gone. Definitely a bounded field before, then.

Medea arrived at the entrance to a small alley, where several overweight children were kicking a smaller boy, collapsed with obvious signs of circuit overuse.

"**ύπνου**," Medea whispered.

They all collapsed like puppets with the strings cut.

She walked up to the boy. Black hair, clearly not well fed, looked around ten. She didn't understand how or why he would be her Master, or even how he could support her and stay conscious. But she could see on his hand what could only be Command Seals.

Oh well, a mystery to figure out later.

* * *

Harry woke up to a glass of water being poured on him.

"So who are you?" the woman holding a glass over him said.

"Who are you! How did I get here…" Harry trailed off.

"I am Medea. I found you in an alley, being kicked. I knocked everyone all out and brought you here," she said blandly.

Even confused as he was, Harry didn't think that sounded very good at all. He looked at her.

Medea was sitting on the floor on front of him, legs folded delicately to one side. She was wearing a cloak over some sort of dress. It was all purple with bits of black and gold. Harry himself was also laying on the floor, except he lacked her grace and his clothing was faded and oversized. Her hood was laid back, revealing vibrant blue hair and pointed ears.

"What do you want with me?" he asked hesitantly. She looked nice, but so did a lot of people who weren't very nice at all.

"I want to know about you. What is your name, who are your parents, and so on." Medea looked at him curiously.

"I'm Harry. My parents died in a car crash, I live with my relatives…" Harry told her.

"You don't sound very fond, there," Medea mused.

"Well…" Harry knew better than to go into detail. People either didn't believe him or became uncomfortable. If they did take him seriously, it never lasted very long.

"What are you avoiding telling me," Medea said firmly. She gazed at him.

Harry started feeling hazy. "My relatives don't like me because I'm a freak, I don't like them either, they make me do everything and punish me for anything that goes wrong—" Harry said before freezing. He felt like something washed over him for a moment.

"What just happened," he said in alarm.

Medea laughed lightly. "For one such as you to shake off hypnosis from me… I suppose I should not be surprised, with you being my Master."

"What?"

"Nothing important," Medea deflected. "Clearly, there is something wrong with your relatives. As for you, I see nothing freakish at all."

Medea murmured something and a sphere of light appeared above her palm. Harry stared.

"I imagine they'd call me much the same, hm? In fact, I think I'm going to keep you, since your relatives can't see quality when its right in front of them."

Harry looked at her worriedly. "Can you even do that?" Medea looked back at him amusedly.

"Ah, I'm sure someone would object, but it doesn't sound like your relatives would, no? And even if they did, it's not like I care what they think," she said. "Not that I'm giving you any choice in the matter, but can you honestly tell me you'd prefer to stay with boring, normal people who treat you like trash?"

"...I suppose not," Harry said slowly.

"Good," she said. "There are strange people sniffing about. I've, ah, borrowed this penthouse for the night. Barring new trouble, we'll go collect your things from your relatives tomorrow."

Harry was momentarily torn, but she was right. Even her questioning was far kinder than the Dursleys ever treated him. He could always try to run later if she was truly crazy.

* * *

Medea woke. She did not _need _to sleep, but the entirety of her time in the Grail war she had not slept. So she slept anyway. The bounded fields she put up over the co-opted apartment would have alerted her in time if something happened.

She had dreamed of a cupboard. More importantly, Harry probably dreamed of her. She would need to fix that before they slept again; it shouldn't be difficult.

She could smell food.

Medea got up and entered the kitchen to find Harry cooking.

"Not that I disapprove, but I'm pretty sure it isn't normal in this era for children your age to be cooking," she said, stretching. She sat at the table and watched him, head resting on her hand.

"I always cook breakfast for the Dursleys," Harry said quietly. Medea frowned. She didn't have a problem with that, but with what she had already heard...

"Hmph. I'm seeing a pattern here. But no matter. I wasn't planning to eat, but I can see you prepared food for more than yourself. I suppose it can't hurt."

After they ate, she teleported Harry to the alley where she found him. She caught him as he stumbled. "Heh. In case you didn't catch on with my little light last night, I suspect to your relatives I'm more of a 'freak' than you've ever been. Can you lead me to their house from here?"

Harry nodded shakily.

It was a moderate walk to #4 Privet Drive. Harry seemed used to it, though.

Medea knocked on the door. After a moment, it opened, revealing a disgustingly overweight man. He eyed her for a moment. "What do you want?" Then he noticed Harry. "...You're one of those freaks, aren't you? We don't want your kind here!"

"I don't particularly want to be here. But surely you don't want to have this conversation in public," she said smoothly.

Vernon hesitated. "Fine, get in here so you can get out."

Medea stepped inside with Harry.

Petunia walked into the room just in time to be caught in her spell.

"**Ατλας.**" The air seemed to freeze.

"I'm going to ask you questions, and you are going to answer," Medea said flatly.

* * *

The Dursleys were offensive to even deal with. They insulted her, they insulted Harry. They did not even have the decency to admit they were afraid, as Creon did in Corinth. Instead they ranted that they were 'freaks', as though they were somehow lesser. They disgusted her.

But that was the end of that. She had gotten everything they knew that was worth anything, and finished by hypnotizing them and telling them that Harry had gone to live with a distant relative on his father's side. She also took what money and jewelry they had in the house. She could put it to better use, after all. After experiencing them first hand, she even took some pleasure in it.

She stood outside the house, now. Harry seemed a bit shocked. Understandable, what with learning his parents were actually wizards and were murdered, rather than drunks.

"Harry?"

"Hm?" He didn't look at her.

"...If you like, I could get rid of the Dursleys."

Harry looked torn for a moment, then his face firmed. "No… there's no point. Even if it doesn't matter to you, it would make trouble. I'll never see them again anyway, right?"

Medea sighed. "True enough. It was a bad idea anyway."

She wrapped her cloak around them and they teleported back to London.

After he had shaken off the teleport, Harry just sat there.

"What's on your mind?" Medea asked idly. She pondered what to do next. Petunia had given her a place to start on locating the local magi, but they clearly were not magi as she knew them. If Petunia had not been under the effects of hypnosis, perhaps she would have written it off, but that was not the case. Magic only through wands, spells that could essentially rewind damage to repair objects, and so on. She would need to be cautious.

"I dunno," Harry said. "They always told me my parents were drunks, that they died in a car wreck, but… everything I knew was wrong."

"I know what that it is like," Medea said. "Once, I believed in many things as surely as you believe in the sun, and then everything was revealed to be a terrible lie. It destroyed me, for a time."

She paused.

"You should not let it destroy you. Clearly, the Dursleys meant you to suffer. The best way to spite them is, well… there is a saying, that the best revenge is living well. I won't claim that I'll treat you like some prince, but I can't imagine I could fail to treat you better than they did."

After a moment, Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"So… You've seen me do things you were taught were impossible, fanciful. That was magic. Magic is real, and you have the potential for it. It is what led me to you in that alley."

Harry looked at her. "...Can you teach me? Teach me to be like you."

Medea slowly smiled. For a moment, she seemed almost predatory. "Oh, I think I can do that."

* * *

Medea finally sat down and leaned into her new couch.

It had been a tiring week. Despite her indulgences the first night she knew just enough to know she knew nothing. There were magic users about, that could do things she could not, and she didn't know all they could do. The borrowed penthouse was not safe, and she couldn't make it safe.

Even had she magically secured it, it was not hers, and if she just stayed there someone, somewhere would be hit by the dangling loose ends, no matter how many people she hypnotized. That could lead right back to her.

So she went apartment hunting. Using the money from the Dursleys to start with and a bit of hypnosis to fudge identification, she rented a disappointingly small one bedroom apartment. Still, even a one bedroom apartment was far superior to the lodging from her era, and Harry seemed to think it was luxurious. Then again, he had been kept in a cupboard.

The rest of the week she had spent layering powerful bounded fields in and over the apartment, binding them to a moderately powerful ley line running under Islington. It had been a major reason for her choice.

She now felt like she could take her eyes off her Master for at least a short time. She was confident in her ability to defend herself, but Harry was a human child, and it would take only a single hit to kill him from a serious enemy.

She sighed and relaxed into the cushions.

So far, what she knew was that Petunia's sister, Harry's mother, was a member of a community of magic users that referred to themselves as wizards and witches. They were absolutely dependent on wands to do magic. Their magic's limitations did not seem consistent with either modern magecraft or even the thaumaturgy of her era; there were things it could do they could not, and things they could do that Petunia had never heard of it doing.

At least one gathering place could be found on Charing Cross Road, Petunia did not know exactly where, that was some sort of pub, which led to a business district.

They did not use normal money, though you could exchange it for theirs.

Medea was not sure what to make of the secondhand stories of magic castles and talking hats and the like. It sound like some sort of modern white-washed fairy tale.

Harry had adapted well to the new home, despite its limitations and her keeping him inside all week. She had explained to him that she could not teach him anything until she finished placing protective magic on the apartment, and he accepted it quietly. He mostly watched her as she worked, sometimes cooking food that always ended up distracting her till she gave in and ate.

"Harry," she called out.

"What?" he said, coming into the room. Medea was curling up on the couch. She glanced up.

"The protections I've set up on the apartment are barely acceptable, now. I'm going to be going out and investigating the magic community your parents belonged to. Once I've gotten information from there, things will be more relaxed. Then we can start working on you."

"Alright," Harry said. He sat down on the other end of the couch silently.

She didn't mind it, but it was odd, dealing with a child for whom almost no attention was better than he was used to. He was unfailingly compliant, though to be fair she hadn't really asked him to do anything other than not leave the apartment. Still, no doubt he would be more troublesome once he got used to someone who wouldn't yell at him.

* * *

Medea stood outside of a pub. The Leaky Cauldron reeked of strangely wrought prana to her senses, and no one but her seemed to even see it, their eyes slipping from one side to the other.

It had taken her a few hours to find it. In the end, she had simply paid a taxi to cruise down Charing Cross Road slowly from end to end while she cast her senses out for any source of prana.

Her cloak was reasonably similar to the attire of the wizards she saw on the surface after her summoning, but she was not wearing it. Instead, she was wearing a hooded robe she had projected that looked exactly like ones the wizards would wear. Ideally, though, her appearance would not matter at all.

Medea astralized, shifting into spiritual form. Magi could not visually perceive Servants when they were astralized, even their own. Hopefully, this would hold true for wizards as well.

She moved into the pub, reinforced her hearing, and listened.

Medea was there for several hours, making mental notes. She noticed a number of people going in and out the back, but she was not quite ready to abandon her spot. It was then that she heard it.

"Eh, Tom, you think you could open Diagon for me? I lost my wand last night." Medea focused her attention on the speaker. Short man, mostly bald, seedy look to him.

"Ooh, that must hurt. Sure, I'll let you through, but you'd best replace it. A wizards no wizard at all without his wand."

"I'm headed straight to Ollivander's, trust me."

Medea followed the men silently out the back. Tom, the bartender, pulls out a wand and taps the bricks, only for them to fold into themselves, revealing a bustling alley. The alley looked like it belonged in a scene taken from at least a hundred years ago.

Despite her surprise, she trailed behind the wizard, as he led her directly to a small shop, bare of anything but a simple sign, declaring "Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."

She followed him inside, and watched as an eerie old man had him test dozens of wands. She suspected the old man knew she was there, but he gave no indications.

After he bought the wand, Medea abandoned the wizard and wandered the alley, listening and collating random facts from conversations she passed by.

Eventually, she slipped out of sight and de-astralized while summoning British pounds from a circle back in the apartment. Walking back out like nothing had happened, she walked back down the alley to the bank. The goblins looked at her suspiciously, but they changed her money. From there she went straight to Ollivanders again.

"Back so soon?"

Medea watched warily as the old man walked up to her.

"You aren't from around here, are you… It has been a very, very long time since I met someone I could not name. Don't worry, though. I sell wands, nothing more. Here, try this."

Ollivander suddenly handed her a wand, only to snatch it back.

"No, no… Perhaps this would have been your wand, had things gone differently."

He hesitated, then handed it back to her. "I won't waste your time with a routine meant to entertain children. That wand is both a poor match for you, and the best match you'll likely ever get. It is about as old as Ollivander's itself, no small thing, that. Stocked some wands crafted by others back then. I'd say sometimes we just aren't meant to wield magic, but I think there is more to you than meets the eye."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about," Medea demurred.

"Of course, of course… yew, thirteen inches, core of dittany; that will be eight galleons," Ollivander said.

She paid the disturbingly perceptive man and left. She considered hypnotizing him, but her track record of hypnotizing wizards was about one long and failed in less than ten seconds.

The wand seemed to hum faintly, fitting in her hand like it was made for it.

Better to just walk away.

* * *

chapter end

A/N:

I know how it is to be looking for a story. Sometimes we want to know certain things beforehand. So for this fic...

Relationships can fail, or at least end. So if someone hooks up with somebody, they might not stay there. Life is a journey, and it rarely has one stop.

Definitely no slash. Femslash isn't planned, but I dunno.

No improbable shit:

\- No Harry basically tripping one morning and falling into a pile of 6-12 girls who want to all marry him and insist. On the other hand, Harry may end up involved with more than one person. Don't know yet. The golden rule is "can I see this actually happening".

\- That also means no cardboard cutout Ron/Draco/Dumbledore/etc acting like some kind of NPC that vomits fanon bashbait, can't adjust its lines to what is actually happening, and is immune to realistic consequences of that.

\- Harry doesn't get special treatment by the universe. If he can do something, so can his enemies, though obviously they don't have the opportunity to learn what Medea has to teach.

On the subject of Harry/Medea: People seem divided on this. I like the idea, but like I said above, I won't write what I can't believe. I can see ways it could happen, but I'm not going to bend the plot into a pretzel to make it happen.

If you got an opinion on this, I absolutely want to hear it. PM, review, whatever.


	2. Familiarization

Familiarization

Over the next week, Medea visited the alley almost every day, exchanging muggle money (and how that word infected her vocabulary…) for wizard coinage only to spend it all on everything from books to magic materials. Even if the wizards didn't do magic as she did, they still stocked many things that made her job a lot easier.

She felt a lot less uncomfortable, now that she had a proper grasp of wizard kind.

Before, she had approached the community in the same way she would a dangerous organization like the Clocktower, wary of discovery at the first sign of ignorance on her part. In truth, it appeared her concerns were unnecessary.

The wizarding world on the surface was almost like a modern, whitewashed fairy tale. Magic was merely a matter of wand movements and butchered latin, no toil and sacrifice. For the most part wizards did not concern themselves with goals beyond their immediate amusement. The idea of developing magic specific to your family existed, but was mostly outmoded, with most spells a matter of public record. The development of unique traits, while it might come with discrimination, did not lead you to be dissected. Usually.

But there was darkness under this thin veneer. In the world of magi, perhaps people paid too much attention to the age of your family, but that was a direct result of a very real relationship between that and power. The very idea of dismissing on the basis of "creature blood" would be considered absurd; in fact you were as likely to be exalted for it, and to a magus, wizard lycanthrope would be merely an immense nuisance.

If there was a difference in the magical power of muggleborns and purebloods amongst wizards, it was a subtle one, and not worthy of the importance it was given.

In truth, she almost felt embarrassed to have been as worried as she had been. She didn't hold herself at such alert, now. There was no war, no enemies.

For a while she just wasted time on whatever took her fancy. Shopping, lazing about with sleazy novels, sleeping. As a bonus, sleeping in the same bed didn't take long to cure Harry of flinching from her touch. Now he was almost clingy, not that she minded much.

Eventually, though, she grew tired of doing nothing. It was time to see about her Master's potential.

* * *

"So," Medea said idly during breakfast. "Do you still want to learn magecraft?"

"Yes!" Harry said. He flushed. "I told you before, I'd like to be like you."

"The first thing you should know about modern magecraft is that all forms of it utilize prana. Put simply, magi generate prana from life force via a phenomenon called magic circuits. In order to make any real progress as a magus, you need to have them. In your case, you have…"

Medea muttered to herself and looked at him carefully, confusion flickering across her face.

"That doesn't make sense… hm. Well, you have a fairly decent number of them, 24 circuits. Something is odd about them, but I'll figure it out. Magecraft is significantly affected by a magus's element and origin. Element being simply an affinity for a particular sort of concept, usually something broad like fire or water. Origin is a bit more subtle. Some would even say it defines you, defines your beginning and everything after."

"In your case, your element is… well, the Clocktower would refer to it as the Sixth Imaginary Element. Suffice to say I'm not sure of the implications there. Your Origin is even more ridiculous. Void. That one is easier to explain, actually, with your history."

"So I can learn your magic?" Harry asked.

Medea hesitated. "Sort of. I do use magecraft, of a sort. But there is another kind of magic I use that I cannot teach you, not as you are. I don't know if that will ever change."

Harry nodded.

"It balances out anyway. In all likelihood, you will also be able to use wizard magic, the magic used by your parents and others like them. So far, I have been unable to use much of it at all." Medea laughed. "Perhaps someday we will solve our respective limitations together."

* * *

Harry liked Medea. She never spoke harshly to him. She taught him things he could never have imagined before, starting with magecraft of the mind. That the brain is merely the interface between the soul and the body. While he was still constrained by it, magecraft allowed him to loosen the shackles of the flesh. He thought faster, but more importantly he thought more. He held multiple streams of thought simultaneously.

This, combined with the basic self-hypnosis that is the foundation of magecraft, made learning language and math trivial compared to what it would be for a normal child his age. Unfortunately, it only made magecraft itself slightly easier.

She was not affectionate, but he had no memories of affection, knowing it only from books. He at least knew she cared, insofar as she cared about anything she owned. For all her demands, compared to the Dursleys, he was better off than he had ever been.

With his greater capacity for thought, he finally asked her why she bothered with him. Medea had looked at him for a long moment, then she spoke.

"You know I am not human, not really. I was once, but I lived, and died. But there was a powerful ritual, one able to summon forth copies of the souls of great men and women, mythic figures of the past. It brought me forth, and I lived and nearly died once again. A similar ritual somehow summoned me here, to you."

"One of the things these two rituals held in common was those who were summoned were not truly resurrected. We drew power from magi, known as Masters, with us titled Servants. In this world, you are technically my Master. If you die, I will likely die also. Beyond the need to keep you safe, the way the Dursleys treated you offended me deeply. My tutelage of you makes you safer, and teaches me about wizards as well, as you are one."

"I don't see how you can learn much about wizards when all I do is magecraft," Harry said.

"Oh, we'll get to wizardry as well. Only select spells of great utility, though, until you reach the age where wizard children attend a boarding school in Scotland. On the grand scale they can likely teach you more effectively than I, if only because they have can properly cast the spells themselves. Their wands respond to me, but I have yet to successfully cast anything beyond a few first year spells," Medea said.

"Who were you, when you were human?" Harry asked.

"Mm… I was Medea of Colchis. I was a princess, actually. The king was a powerful magic user, and as his daughter, so was I." Medea smiled sadly. "It doesn't really matter now."

"Your progress with mind magic is impressive. I don't know if you are simply determined, a prodigy, or aided by your element or origin. Perhaps all of it. In any case, now that you have the mind, I am going to teach you to think like a magus."

She walked over and sat beside him.

"It is clear that wizards are both kinder and crueller than magi. The mindset of modern magi is cold, but it will serve you well when the time comes to attend one of the wizard schools. This is something you will be able to do around the time you turn twelve or so. Apparently wizards have trouble with reliable magic control until near the start of puberty."

"What is most important to a proper magus is results," Medea said. "Wizards have many strange ideas. Some will claim that simply having a long lineage of wizards makes them superior in some vague fashion. Measurable results won't matter to these people. I suggest you avoid them."

"Others will either deify or demonize those possessing powerful bloodline gifts, such as metamorphmagi or parseltongues. You should disdain these people as well. Only a fool would overlook the value of someone who can assume any human form, or who can command snakes as though they had the sentience of a man."

"...I can speak to snakes," Harry said suddenly.

"Oh? Well, that's interesting…" Medea mused. "Still, a topic for later. The point I am making is you should concern yourself with real results. If someone wants you to do something because everyone is doing it, or believe something because 'everyone knows that', you should reject it and do your own research."

"I have heard that modern magi focus on reaching the Root. In my era, some did that, but my father and I did not. I suggest you focus on power."

"Knowledge is power, and power is the ability to enact change. The more powerful you become, the more freedom you have. I'm sure the Dursleys taught you enough about powerlessness for a lifetime," Medea said softly.

"I understand," Harry said.

"To be honest, while I would never wish our experiences on anyone, I believe that it is being truly powerless, that teaches us to harden our hearts, that enlightens us. That in the end... power is all that matters. Perhaps if you hadn't lived with the Dursleys, you would have difficulty understanding that truth."

"We'll never know," Harry replied.

* * *

Harry never became a 'troublesome child' as Medea had expected. Perhaps because he was matured by his upbringing, or by the effects of his mind magecraft. Or maybe he was just that devoted. There were times he disagreed with her, but they were rare, and well-reasoned. So she tolerated it.

Before she could teach him, she needed to properly tap the local ley line for herself. Up to now, she had relied on a combination of his impressive prana output, his Element reducing erosion from Gaia, and a temporary hack of a tap that required daily maintenance not to break. This took her another week, even using the wizarding world for exotic materials.

Harry absorbed anything she tried to teach, from bounded fields to analogues of Projection, Alteration, and Reinforcement. His Element made his magecraft more flexible than normal, able to be adjusted to some extent solely through intent.

Sometimes they would spar, if you could call him attempting to avoid innumerable bolts of magic energy sparring. He lacked any real offensive mysteries as of yet. Still, it trained his evasion and danger sense, and he never faltered.

They had experimented with wizardry. Harry used her wand, though it responded poorly. Through exhaustive training, he was able to semi-reliably cast a spell to negate velocity, the unlocking charm, the severing charm, and the mending charm. The last was the most valuable, both directly and as a subject of research. It could be used to repair mundane items that could be immediately sold for more money than they cost, reducing the need for Medea to get money through creation of valuable materials or theft, depending on her mood.

Medea returned to the summoning chamber. It was exactly as she left it; apparently the wizards who had been there on her arrival were unable to find it. Progress in understanding it was slow. Despite its obvious function, the summoning circle was very different from the circle used in the Grail war. This one was far more complicated. Whether this was an indicator of inefficient design, because it was not powered by a remote system, or something else, she did not know.

As far as wizard research went, Medea was attempting to reproduce the Mending charm through her magecraft. It behaved very similarly to the time reversal techniques used by Dead Apostles and she hoped to achieve a similar effect. Wizards did not use it in that way, but it was possible that they were limited by something her magecraft was not.

She had considered taking Harry to get a wand of his own, but she was not ready to risk bringing attention to them. Medea was well aware of her Master's fame, and she did not trust Ollivander. It was possible that he would be able to identify him, and there was a world of difference between overlooking a strange woman and the 'savior of the wizarding world'.

Harry did get to experience her excursions to the wizarding world through her shared senses. Medea made a point to engage him when she was shopping or interacting with various wizards, making observations and asking his opinion. This was both to teach him and because she simply liked talking to him. She would do the same in the muggle world, though there she would bring him in person, only using their link to privately communicate.

Birthdays were not important to Medea. In her era, you did not celebrate such things. Harry had never celebrated one before, so he didn't mind.

Still, Harry's eleventh birthday came and went. His ability to use wizard magic began to stabilize. Medea knew it was time to deal with his entry into the wizarding world.

* * *

"We need to decide how to handle the wizard school," Medea said to Harry. They were eating lunch. She had long since stopped trying to convince him she didn't need to eat. He would cook enough food for two every day regardless, and she would find herself eating it.

Better food had improved his health dramatically, compounded further by reinforcement and potions. He was barely recognizable as the underfed boy she had picked up in that alley a year before.

"You said that you expect them to send me a letter," Harry said. "You never did explain why, or how it was going to reach us in here."

"The why is simple. It is common for wizard parents who can do so to enroll their children into Hogwarts at birth. Even if they do not, they receive an invitation, much like muggleborns. These invitations are allegedly written out using a powerful divination spell wrought into Hogwarts itself. As to whether it will reach us, I don't know. Whether it does will tell me a lot about the power of Hogwarts enchantments."

Harry looked at her. "If it doesn't, I'm guessing you still think I should go."

"Yes. Hogwarts is supposedly one of the better schools, but it also has a renowned library, one that is only available to active students or visitors with special permission that is rarely given," Medea said. "The books are protected from wizard duplication spells, but as you no doubt remember, our experiments showed that structural grasping and projection of a book allows you to create a temporary copy lacking any such magic. From there you can copy that in the wizard fashion to create a permanent copy, and then send it here."

Harry's lip twitched at Medea's exaggerated hand motions.

She sighed. "There may be some information lost, animated diagrams and the like, but even a damaged book is better than no book. Even if it is one we can find outside Hogwarts, this would allow us to decide whether we want the book in the first place."

"It is still a lot of attention for a library," Harry said hesitantly. "The divination spells you mentioned make it essentially impossible for a student to hide their identity. Given the ridiculous furor about my parents murder…"

"If you are willing to risk a lesser education and go without the library heist, I suppose it isn't necessary…" Medea murmured.

"You know me better than that," Harry replied. "You are only saying that to make me admit it."

"Mm. Maybe," Medea said amusedly. She pulled out some folded parchment.

"So. I have managed to get a copy of this years Hogwarts letter. No doubt there will be some small changes next year, but it gives us an idea of what you will need. Robes, hat, gloves, cloak, shirts, etc. And we already own all the books. The equipment is a simple matter…" Medea hummed to herself. "Do you want an owl? You don't need one to communicate with me, and the small teleport circles work just fine for letters or packages. But maybe you'd want one anyway. I suppose it could save prana." She slid the sheets over to him.

"No, there's no point. If the circles don't work for some reason, you can buy one after the fact," Harry said as he skimmed over them. "What are you going to do for the clothing?"

"Well, any advantage of hiding you away will be lost shortly after, so I was thinking we would go to Diagon together for once before Hogwarts. That way we can have it all tailored to you, along with getting you a wand," Medea said. "I'm sure you will be happy to see the place for yourself, no matter how much you may have agreed with my caution. "

Harry grinned. "Yes, but it isn't as bad as you think. You haven't wanted me to stay inside since the first few weeks after we moved in here, and you are always interesting to watch even if you are not teaching me."

Medea raised an eyebrow at him. "If you say so. I would think it would get dull."

"You're never dull."

"We'll see if you hold that opinion after I try to cram the theory behind the spatial transportation circles into you. Pre-prepared ones work fine, but I have found teleportation to be one of the most powerful abilities at my disposal, and you'll find it to be the same if you finally manage it," Medea said. Harry winced.

Over the next year Harry found it easier to cast the wizard spells he knew. While their primary focus remained on magecraft, Harry did pick up two more spells, selected as always for their utility: the locking charm and the disarming charm.

Except for the disarming charm and velocity negation, everything he had learned so far was taken directly from the Grade 1 book. Most spells he tried from Grade 2 did not work well for him.

In magecraft, Medea taught him the foundation of her spatial manipulation, which was the basis for her personal teleportation and the enormously simpler circles. Simpler in comparison,at least. He still lacked the understanding needed to create even the circles.

Things continued in this fashion until July, 31st, 1992.

* * *

Medea's eyes snapped open as a wave of prana washed over the bounded fields. Harry muttered something in his sleep as she slid out of the bed, weaving her preferred cloak and dress from prana around her as she exited the room.

The fields were as strong as always, but there was no way to know what had been detected, not with that kind of power.

She put a kettle on the stove and sat down on her couch to wait.

At 3 AM, Harry got up, mumbling something about not being able to sleep.

At 7 AM, Harry brought food and she finally decided that there wasn't any point in sitting around on edge.

Of course it was when they started to eat that prana washed over the apartment again. Not as intense as before, but it was right outside.

Medea picked up her plate and made it to the door just in time for the knock.

"Hello," she said mildly to the old man standing at her door. He opened his mouth then paused. Medea leaned against the door frame and stuck a fork of eggs in her mouth. "Can I help you?"

The man blinked. "Ah, yes. I am Albus Dumbledore. I'm here to speak to Harry Potter?"

* * *

chapter end


	3. First Impressions

First Impressions

"Mm," Medea murmured. "You need to speak to Harry Potter about..."

She eyed the man. Purple was always a good choice, but… she preferred a measure of elegance. Dumbledore's robes were anything but. They even had stars patterned on them.

"Well," Albus said. "I run a boarding school in Scotland, and his parents enrolled him after he was born."

Medea sighed. "Come on then."

She led him into the apartment, to the coffee table where Harry was still eating. Albus slowed for a moment as his eyes swept across the obviously magical objects in the room, but he didn't stop.

"Please, sit," Medea said. "I'm curious as to why the headmaster of a school in another country came personally to speak to Harry. I hope it isn't just because of that whole," she waved her hand, "Boy-Who-Lived thing."

"I knew to expect an invitation from Hogwarts, but I wasn't expecting the headmaster," Harry said.

After sitting down on a couch, Albus said, "I can see why that would confuse you. You see, I've been a bit confused myself. I thought that Harry lived with his aunt and uncle, but a few years ago I learned that he was nowhere to be seen. Investigation revealed that someone claiming to be a more distant relative came and took him away, someone who didn't mind handling the Dursleys rather… impolitely."

"I became somewhat concerned," he said. "I was unable to find the slightest trace of him until today, when the Book of Students automatically completed and addressed the invitation for Hogwarts. Even then, I could only sense this apartment myself by its absence."

"Well, that was the idea," Medea said idly. "It would be rather poor warding if it let anyone just look us up."

"I don't suppose I could convince you he would be safer at the Dursleys?" Albus asked.

"Doubtful. As far as external threats go, well, your complete failure to locate us says it all," Medea said. "Furthermore… did you know they basically used him like a house elf, even kept him in a cupboard?"

"...No, I didn't. I'm sure you can understand why I find that difficult to believe," Albus replied.

"Well, you can take my word for it or not. I assume you have his letter?" she said abruptly.

"Yes, I have it," Albus said, pulling it out. Medea took it from his hand.

"You haven't said anything else to me, Harry. Don't you have any questions?" Albus said suddenly.

"I'm not really comfortable with you," Harry said. "The Dursleys were obsessed with normality, they wouldn't have anything to do with you, and yet somehow you know when I left. Then you show up here, all sketchy."

Albus looked taken aback.

"I've been thinking much the same, I've just tried to be more polite," Medea said. "I really think you should leave."

Albus got up after a moment. He seemed to hesitate a few times on the way to the door.

"What is your name again?" Albus asked her.

"Hmph. Medea," she said, closing the door and activating several bounded fields.

She went back and sat on the couch, laying her legs across Harry's lap.

"He is moving about outside. Probably looking at the bounded fields. Not that it'll make any sense when he is expecting wards," she muttered.

"Was that as strange to you as it was for me?" Harry asked.

"I half expected something like this. There was a fair chance if something like this didn't happen that we wouldn't even get the letter. The price of powerful defenses. Does it really surprise you that you were being watched? Boy-Who-Lived and all that rot."

"I think part of me didn't want to believe someone could be watching me and not do anything about the Dursleys," Harry said softly.

A mute crack could be heard.

"And he's gone," Medea stated. "I've taught you all about how people truly are, but some lessons don't sink in till you see it. There's no shame in it. If you truly don't like it, just change it when you become the most powerful wizard."

"The most powerful wizard?" Harry said dryly.

"Of course. No matter how hollow the title, you are my Master," Medea said lightly. "It is inconceivable that I could have a Master that is not the most powerful wizard."

"We will need to be careful. Albus Dumbledore didn't get his ridiculous number of titles by being someone to make light of. He wasn't any trouble for us here, but he was in the domain of someone he knew nothing about, in the presence of magic he couldn't recognize. Maybe he will be just as reasonable in the future, but we must take all possibilities into account," she lectured.

"I know," Harry said irritably.

"Look at the bright side," she said cheerily. "Clothes shopping tomorrow!"

Harry eyed her like a rabid animal. "I'm sure I can manage the clothes by myself…"

"Don't be silly, without me you'll just buy the minimum boring stuff and be done with it."

"That's the idea. I know exactly how you get."

Medea gave him a look. "I'll admit I may enjoy clothes shopping, but you will need the good stuff for dealing with the idiots."

"...Fine."

* * *

Clothes shopping was not fun for Harry Potter. This was mainly because Medea enjoyed it a little too much. She would never admit to a tendency to use him as a doll, of course. Harry already owned dozens of outfits that even wizards would admire, some of which were styled after Medea's. Unfortunately, Hogwarts had a dress code.

"What is the point of tailoring a robe like this anyway," Harry complained. Madam Malkin didn't say anything, continuing to work.

"Strictly speaking, not much with that kind of robe. But it helps a little, and then there's the shirt and trousers…" Medea said critically. "I've taught you the importance of using every advantage, no matter how small. These things do affect people's impressions of you."

She, of course, was wearing her preferred outfit, the same one she was summoned in. At least she put her hood down; sometimes she kept it up because of how much attention her ears would get. Most accepted her claim that it was the product of an alchemical accident, but that still required explaining to each new person she met. At least her hair was dismissed as magically recolored.

"Fair enough, but you are also buying them in every house color."

"I've told you why for that one too. Any unnecessary magic is that much less magic we can add that actually does something." Medea sighed. "You should be happy, there isn't even room for me to work anything in with the dress code."

"I can tell you want to anyway," Harry said dryly.

"And thats done," Madam Malkin said, turning around.

Harry accepted the bundle of clothing gratefully and said to Medea, "Well there we go, can we do something useful now?"

"Fine," she said. Harry walked out while she paid Madam Malkin and looked around. The requirements had not actually changed this year, so everything on the list was long since taken care of. The only question now was if he wanted anything in the alley.

He glanced down at the bank.

"Medea?" he called back into the shop.

"What," she said, finally coming out.

"What do you think happened to all of my parents stuff? I mean, in the muggle world even if it was sold off I'd still get something. Maybe I should have asked Dumbledore."

"It's a bit late now," she advised. "Still… as far as I know there are no other banks. Apparently way back, before any modern government even existed, the goblins were forced to bind themselves magically to guard the gold of any wizard with their lives, even from themselves. The oath allowed them to charge for it, but they can't refuse to do it and they can't be compelled to betray the trust. I'm sure you can see how that is hard to compete with."

"What I'm getting at is if your parents kept their money there they might allow you to access it, if your parents set it up right."

They started walking toward the bank.

"That actually explains a lot," Harry said slowly. "I wondered when I read that goblins handled inheritances. But if their oath compels them to give access by its rules and wasn't written to account for a government the only way to change things would be to kill them all."

"Yes," Medea said. "Several of the goblin 'rebellions' were actually some idiot politician trying to make them do something different because they were too stupid to understand they couldn't."

Harry noticed the goblins looking suspiciously at Medea as they entered.

Medea glanced at him and said, "Even after all this time they still watch me. They know I'm not just some wizard. Won't give me a vault either. I think the only reason they change money for me is because they profit somehow from it and it is so little trouble."

They went up to a counter.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the goblin behind the counter. "I believe my parents might have left money for me here? My name is Harry Potter."

The goblin grinned. "Another Harry Potter? Well, come along then. Longtooth! Take these two to the Potter vault."

Harry thought that didn't sound very good at all.

* * *

After a dizzying cart ride, during which they were soaked by a waterfall that destroyed Medea's clothing, they stood in front of a large metal door. Harry was amused, Medea was rather irritated. She recreated the clothing in seconds but it was still undignifying.

"Well go on," the goblin said, grinning maliciously.

Medea structurally grasped the door. "Some sort of blood magic?" The goblin stopped smiling. "Do it, Harry."

Harry walked up to the door and hesitantly touched it. A sharp pain caused him to pull his hand back.

A low, deep hum came from the vault. Suddenly, loud clicks could be heard and the door swung outward. The goblin looked disappointed.

"What were you expecting to happen?" Medea asked curiously.

"Those who lack the blood get sucked in," the goblin said.

"And how often do you check," Harry asked warily.

"Once every decade or so," the goblin said. "If you'd come by a year ago, you'd have beaten us to the handful of pretenders." He grinned again.

Inside the vault were large piles of the various wizard currencies, as well as a few ingots and unmarked coins of pure gold, silver, and other metals. A few trunks were by the wall. A larger, plainer trunk was just inside the door.

Harry looked inside the closest trunk. It was full of everything from appliances to paintings, with varying amounts of damage.

"I'm guessing these are from the house we lived in," Harry mused.

"I'd have suggested taking the money a few years ago but at this point we get enough from repairs and special materials. It might be best to leave it here," Medea said. "Is it possible for him to add people to the vault's access list?"

"Yes," the goblin said reluctantly. "The vault was set up to allow access to anyone with a matching key. The key was willed to him and mailed."

"Well, I don't have it," Harry said. "Can it be replaced?"

"Creating a new key will cost 20 Galleons. Replacing the lock to invalidate the existing key will cost 100 Galleons," the goblin said in a monotone.

Harry and Medea winced at the price. "Fine. Replace it and make a new key for the new lock. Put the new key in the vault when its done, and mail a letter telling us."

The goblin looked annoyed. "We'll have it done."

"We can come back later and examine things here. Any texts, we can copy them as needed," Medea said. Harry glanced at her; she was looking at some sort of deed speculatively.

Unsurprisingly, on the ride back up, they passed through a waterfall again. Medea was still cursing when they reached the surface.

* * *

"What were you looking at in the vault?" Harry asked as they walked out of the bank.

"Mm?" Medea said. "Oh, that was documentation of some land. It's undeveloped, but it is located at a conjunction of three ley lines. Your family may not have given it much thought, as it is in Northern Ireland, only just inside the United Kingdom. Bit of a heavy jump for Apparition. And of course wizard magic only uses ley lines for extremely heavy wards, the sort most wizards lack the personal power to put up."

"Let me guess," Harry said dryly. "You were thinking of using it."

Medea's cheeks tinged faintly. "Well, the apartment isn't bad… but now that you are known, it would be easier to defend with more power and space, and, well…"

"I think it's a good idea," Harry said. "Someone could steal the address of the apartment from student records or something. Your spatial transportation magecraft doesn't suffer as much from the range either."

Medea smiled. Harry suddenly said, "This is going to be just like shopping for you isn't it."

She looked away. "Maybe."

"...Medea."

"Hm?"

"What do you think about leaving the shared senses on all the time?"

Medea hesitated.

"Harry… I'll admit I'm used to your presence." Medea stopped and looked at him. "I know you have researched my history. So far, you have not complained about anything I have ever asked of you. But I will undoubtedly do things, have done things, you might have trouble stomaching. Or that you might not want to see."

Harry looked up at her. "I thought of that. It doesn't matter. As far as I'm concerned, you saved me. I'll stand by you regardless of what you do. You can't deny it would be safer if we always know what is happening to the other."

"Let me think."

They were silent as they walked out of the alley, and Medea teleported them back to the apartment. She sat down and sighed.

"Alright. But I warn you now, I am already planning to do some nasty experiments. I will try to get my hands on criminals but I won't hold back if I can't. And if we are going to do that, we can't shut it off if something is embarrassing or it will defeat the whole purpose. There will be no secrets between us."

"I understand," Harry said firmly. He sat next to her.

"Alright," she said and let out a breath. "About the property." She projected a copy of the deed. "According to this it is almost a square kilometer, if a bit lopsided…"

* * *

Space twisted and dropped Medea and Harry in the dark. A ball of light lit the room.

"I'm showing you this so if something happens to me, you have a chance to figure it out." Medea said. "This is how I was summoned and bound to you."

Harry looked at the engraved runes. "I would think this sort of binding would require consent."

"It does. That is just one of the strange things about it," Medea said. "I understand enough of it to see that this is designed in a way that requires consent exactly as I'd expect, so it is very confusing. The circle had to be activated by your prana, right here, or it would not work." Medea knelt and pointed at a specific convergence of lines.

"And nobody has ever shown up in here."

"As far as I can tell, no. The circle uses a rune cluster I only vaguely understand that somehow taps every nearby ley line _on the fly_ mid-summoning. That drained most of the mana in London and brought Aurors and Unspeakables scurrying about on the surface, but that is as close as they have ever gotten to it. As far as I know, anyway." She laughed. "The way wizards do things, I imagine it created a great many problems for anyone using those lines."

Harry looked at the circle. It was a strange puzzle. A summoning circle that had to be invoked by him but wasn't, that summoned someone no one could know could be summoned, and was designed using principles nobody used.

"Well, you'll figure it out. I'm glad you showed me, but I don't believe there is anything that could kill you," Harry said lightly.

"I hope you are right," Medea said. Once she might have agreed. Her undignified end in the Grail war had changed that attitude.

After a few minutes, she stood up. "Well. Back to the drawing board."

They teleported out, the ball of light fading to black.

* * *

It was the first of September, 1992.

Harry had woken first, habits ingrained by the Dursleys and maintained by choice. It didn't hurt he knew Medea approved. This also tended to wake Medea up.

Eggs and bacon, most of which would be eaten by her, though she would never admit it.

"Hedonist," Harry muttered as Medea ate the last piece of bacon.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," she said.

"So I thought of a way to get electricity in the new house," Medea mentioned, opening the Daily Prophet idly. Since he would no longer be here after today, she had adjusted the bounded fields so they would receive owls. The Prophet made for an acceptable test.

"Oh?"

"Yes. The existence of magic items such as Bludgers shows that some charms can produce an impressive amount of physical energy. I researched it, and apparently it is done with runes. What I am going to do is go by the shop that made the telescope and such you're taking to Hogwarts," Medea said. "I'm going to see if they can enchant a hovering ring that spins, powered by the ley lines. Rather than the usual generator, with a spinning coil and stationary magnets, the magnets are strapped to the ring, and the coil is stationary. This means the only moving part is the ring, and it is hovering without touching any other objects. That means there isn't much I can mess up."

"...Alright," Harry said. "That probably makes sense if I bothered to look it up. But that doesn't change you not knowing anything about voltages."

"Oh, I'll just hypnotize the same electrician I interrogated initially, and have him measure whatever it puts out and fix it," Medea said dismissively. "He can do that while he is installing the wiring and things. The point is, appliances!"

Harry laughed. "I guess. Just goes to show if they gave up the statute of secrecy, wizards could basically end energy scarcity."

Medea hmmed. "I'm not sure about that. Ley lines are finite in capacity."

She finished her tea. "So everything is packed up. Emergency items ranging from potions to that... ill-advised... titanium thing are on prepared teleportation circles, should you ever need them." She winced. "That thing is going to get you killed if you ever use it."

"If I ever need to use it, it will be because I'd otherwise be killed."

"If you say so…" Medea said heavily.

There wasn't much else to say. Everything he required for school was packed, including tailored robes in every house color. Harry already had an uncolored one for the train in an expanded bag.

Harry changed into the required clothing for Hogwarts. Long sleeved white dress shirt. Black trousers and socks. Black dress shoes. Tie.

He particularly disliked the tie.

"Perhaps by the time the year is over you will be good enough to simply project clothing," Medea said.

"After the library, I probably will be. But I'm not going to. Unlike you, I learned something in Gringotts."

Medea twitched. "How was I supposed to know they would run me under their so-called 'Thief's Downfall'? Twice, even!"

Harry laughed. He walked over to Medea. "That should be everything. The trunk is sitting in a circle."

She stuck the Prophet in his bag. "Something to read," she commented.

Medea teleported them to King's Cross Station. "Good luck."

Harry looked at her.

Medea started to step away and paused. After a long moment, she pulled him to her and squeezed once before quickly stepping away.

"We're connected at all times anyway, no? Making a big deal out of nothing, really," Medea said cheerily, looking away.

"If you say so," Harry said dryly.

Medea teleported out without responding.

Harry had to admit he was uncertain. He had spent all of his time in her presence for the last two years. Even when she was not within shouting distance, they had used magecraft to share senses and thoughts. He hadn't even slept alone.

But she was right. He could speak to her at any moment. Even now he could focus and see her walking up to the bank in Diagon.

He sighed and walked past some woman asking her children if they remembered where platform 9¾ was.

Harry stepped through the pillar.

* * *

chapter end


	4. Welcome to Hogwarts

Welcome to Hogwarts

The Hogwarts' Express was a red steam engine. According to Hogwarts: A History, the train was converted to run entirely on magic. If Medea's hovering magnet wheel didn't work out, he would have to suggest she examine the train.

Not right now, though. It was clear she was feeling conflicted. Harry had known for a while that Medea didn't like to admit to any sort of attachment. It would probably be best to give her some time before talking to her.

Harry gazed out across the platform. The platform was busy, people jostling about, carrying owls and cats and other creatures. Most were either in robes or in the school uniform. Harry pushed through the crowd until he reached the train. From there, it didn't take him long to find an empty compartment.

Harry sat down and sighed. He wasn't used to dealing with so many people. Even when they went shopping, he had plenty of space.

He pulled out the Prophet. Apparently, there had been a break-in at Gringotts. The Goblins insisted that nothing had been taken. Apparently, the vault had in fact been emptied a few days beforehand. This was followed by rude comments from the Goblins.

The train started moving. Harry grunted irritably at the stupid font used in the Prophet, and laid it on the seat. He peeked through Medea's eyes.

She was speaking to a goblin about warding. On the desk was a bunch of blueprints, with penciled in corrections. Harry figured it was for their new home.

_(So canon. Much dull. Wow.)_

Suddenly, the door to the train compartment opened. A redheaded boy came in.

"Hey, anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry paused. It was not possible for the train to be full, it had more seating than any two years put together. On the other hand, he could be speaking figuratively, and mean every compartment before this one...

"I suppose not," Harry replied. The boy sat down. He looked at Harry and quickly looked away.

The door opened again. "Hey, Ron." It was a pair of identical older redheads. Twins?

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," Ron mumbled.

One of the twins glanced at Harry and then did a double take.

"Harry Potter?" he said. The other one looked at him and reacted similarly.

"Yes," Harry said.

"Really?" Ron blurted out.

"Yes," Harry said again. Hopefully this wouldn't become a recurring theme at Hogwarts.

The twins looked at him for a moment, then said, "Fred and George Weasley. That's Ron, our brother. We'll see you around, eh?" They left the compartment.

It was quiet for a few minutes.

"...So have you really got a…" Ron gestured toward Harry's forehead.

"...Yes."

Ron looked at him for a moment. "Can I see?"

Harry sighed. "If I show you, will you stop asking me awkward questions?"

Ron's ears went pink. Harry pulled his bangs to the side.

"Wow…" Ron stared for a moment before he seemed to catch himself and look away again.

Harry hoped that it would not be like this for the rest of the trip.

* * *

Medea winced. Perhaps she should have encouraged Harry to be more social before now, she thought. But that would have been hypocritical of her.

She had gone over the plans with Stoneshaper, the goblin in charge of warding. Unlike banking, wards and enchantments were something goblins did willingly. They were the best source of immaterial warding around. The dwarfs could strengthen material better, but they were hard to find these days, much less ones who still had those skills.

Now that Harry was off to learn spells and steal a library, Medea had to decide what she was going to be doing herself. Her construction project would clear the way for proper research; the apartment just didn't have the room. The problem was, she just wasn't comfortable leaving Harry alone for the time she would have needed to find a place to build a proper workshop. Lesser magi might have settled for any old space, but she would have wanted access to ley lines even before her death, and now she needed even more power to sustain herself. This impacted her ability to search as well; too far from Harry or London and she was running on stored prana.

The deed in the vault was a lucky find, in that way. She had expected to have to spend the entire school year searching for a place half as good.

Stoneshaper had suggested house elves after hearing about her security requirements. They made ideal workers, could follow instructions, and could keep their mouths shut.

They reminded her of homunculi. In fact she suspected they were wizard's answer to the same problems.

In fact… well. Not the time.

Unfortunately, house elves were only sold by the old families, and at their discretion. She ended up in the office of a broker who would pass her interest on.

Medea thought about it for a moment, then signed the parchment as Medea Colchis. The contract paper flashed green.

There was a time to avoid attention, and a time when attention was needed, after all.

* * *

It had been at least an hour since the train left the station, and Harry was trying valiantly to read a book on runes. This was difficult because Ron had been glancing at him every so often and he could tell he wanted to say something.

Just as he started to open his mouth, the compartment burst open. It was a girl with brown hair. She was already in her robes.

"Hey, have you seen a toad?" she asked. She looked at them only to blink and look closer at Harry's book. "Is that a book on runes? We can't take Ancient Runes until second year…"

"That may be true," Harry replied. "That doesn't mean I can't use the knowledge myself."

"Oh."

She started to leave and hesitated. "Could I… take a look?"

Harry looked at her again. That she was interested at all was more promising than he'd expected. Medea had reminded him that most 12 year olds were more concerned with childish games than anything that mattered in the long run.

"Sure," he said finally, patting the seat next to him. Ron looked like he swallowed a lemon.

"Oh, I'm Hermione Granger, by the way." she said hurriedly as she sat down next to him. He passed her the book which she took almost manically.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said.

Hermione said, "Really? I've read all about you in—"

"—In a great many books," Harry interrupted. "I have to say I don't understand their fixation on claiming I defeated Voldemort." Ron flinched.

"I was a year old. If anyone did it, it would have been my parents. I'm not even sure how anyone knew I had a scar, even."

Hermione looked torn.

"...You really shouldn't say the name," Ron offered. "It upsets people."

"What name?" Harry asked.

"...Voldemort," Ron said.

"Oh. I read something about that," Hermione said.

The compartment was silent for a bit. Hermione was devouring his rune book, and Harry pulled a book from his bag. Hermione immediately looked at it and blushed. "Is that a romance novel?"

Harry blinked and looked. It was one of Medea's. "I have no idea why that was in there."

Just as he shoved it back in the bag, the compartment door opened again.

Three boys came in, a pale boy with blonde hair and two larger ones, one to each side of him.

"So I heard Harry Potter was in here. Is that true?"

Before anyone could answer, Harry said, "No, but he might be at the other end of the train."

Hermione looked at Harry and started, but didn't say anything.

"Oh. Well that's good. Would be a shame to see him around... the wrong sort," he said, eying Ron.

Ron turned red. "Get out of here, Malfoy," he said.

Malfoy seemed like he was going to say something, but he locked eyes with Harry. Harry looked at him flatly.

"Fine, nothing worth seeing here anyway." Malfoy and his friends left.

"Why did you lie?" Hermione burst out.

"I lied because I didn't want to deal with someone who was only here because I am Harry Potter."

Hermione seemed bothered by this. Hopefully she would get over it.

"_You're going to arrive soon,"_ Medea murmured in his mind.

Harry stood up and pulled his robe out of his bag. Hermione's eyes widened as she realized the bag was enchanted.

Ron also caught on and pulled his own robe out of his trunk.

Just then, a directionless voice said, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

"Hey, where is your trunk, anyway?" Ron asked.

"Oh, it's somewhere," Harry said vaguely. They all stepped into the corridor, which was packed with students.

The trained slowed and stopped. The crowd pushed them along until they were outside, standing on a platform in the dark.

A giant man shouted out, "First years over here! First years, this way!"

The three of them moved toward the man. Harry heard Hermione muttering, "I forgot about his toad, hope he isn't mad—"

"Come on, this way — First years, follow me…" the giant said, He led them down a path, swinging a large lantern.

They came around a bend. There was a gasp from the crowd as an enormous castle was revealed, with innumerable turrets and towers.

"Everyone get in the boats, now," the man called out. "Four to a boat!"

Harry, Hermione, and Ron got into a boat, and were joined by a quiet girl with black hair.

After a few minutes, the boats started to move on their own, floating across the lake towards the castle. Everyone watched silently as they approached, finally entering an opening in the cliff the castle stood on.

Harry felt a slight surge in prana going to his link with Medea.

"_Medea?"_ Harry queried.

"_It's nothing. The wards are probably creating... interference, I suppose? Not deliberately— but enough to be noticed."_

The boats came to a stop on an underground beach. They all climbed out. "Does this toad belong to anyone?" the guide said.

"Trevor!" someone shouted.

Soon, they started up a passage that lead them out onto the grass next to the entrance to the castle.

"Everyone alright?"

The guide knocked on the castle door with his enormous fist.

* * *

The doors opened to show a tall, black-haired witch in green robes. She led them to a chamber, where she told them about the four houses of Hogwarts and the basics of life in a house. It wasn't long after that before they were taken to the Great Hall to be sorted into houses themselves. The sorting was done by the Sorting Hat. It was allegedly able to read the mind of the wearer to judge them.

Harry was not sure where he would end up. Medea said that Ravenclaw might be the most useful, and she expected either it or Slytherin. His suggestion of Hufflepuff confused her for a few seconds before she became slightly flustered.

Neither of them gave Gryffindor any consideration.

The question was, what measure did the hat use? Sure, it read minds, but did it go by their tendencies? Feelings? Was it influenced by the child or their parents desires?

It was even possible that it did something deeper. Perhaps it incorporated magic that could read the Origin of the wearer.

Harry was hoping for Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. He had no desire to be entangled in house feuds or politics.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione stiffened. She glanced at him. He mouthed 'Ravenclaw' at her and she blushed and ran up to the hat.

There was a pause of about ten seconds before the hat shouted out: "RAVENCLAW!"

Ron went to Gryffindor. Harry didn't know anyone else here, so he didn't pay much attention to the other names.

"Potter, Harry!"

There was a murmur through the hall. Harry ignored it and walked over to the hat. He placed it on his head.

For a moment it was like he was hearing static. Then his vision whited out as his mind was forced to a single thread of thought for the first time in over a year.

"_Oh, dear. I hope that didn't cause any trouble."_

The Sorting Hat?

"_Indeed. It is rare for me to sort a child with mental defenses— though I see now that it was more of an enhancement with a convenient side effect."_

Harry was wary. It was possible the hat would tell others what it had learned.

"_You've done your research. You already know there has never been a case of someone complaining that the hat told their secrets."_

So what would it choose?

"_Your advanced state of mind is both a help and hindrance. It is harder to sort... but perhaps more meaningful._

_You are studious, unfailingly so. Very Ravenclaw. If asked, you would say that is because knowledge is power; some would call that Slytherin. But that isn't what really motivates you, is it? I could easily justify Hufflepuff. There is bravery in you, but not for any cause or ideal, only for you and yours. Godric would say that is enough, but it is a pale shadow to the rest._

_I am leaning toward Hufflepuff._

_Then again… your new friend is in Ravenclaw, thanks to you. Bit of a paradox; to put you in the house of loyalty is to separate you from the closest thing to a friend you have so far._

_I think it will be…"_

"RAVENCLAW!"

McGonagall removed the hat and Harry stumbled as his mind magecraft reasserted itself.

The hall was silent, before they started clapping. Harry went to the Ravenclaw table and sat by Hermione shakily.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I had a bad reaction to the hat. Nothing serious."

She looked concerned but didn't press.

"I was thinking of going to Gryffindor but after you said Ravenclaw I couldn't help but think about it and the next thing I knew the hat put me here!" She stopped to breathe.

Harry winced. Hermione clearly didn't take stress very well.

It was not much longer before the remaining students were sorted.

Albus Dumbledore stood up at the teacher's table at the end of the Great Hall. He smiled and spoke.

"Welcome, welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

What?

"Thank you!"

Dumbledore sat back down as everyone clapped. Harry was not sure what to make of it.

Suddenly the plates flickered and were full of food. Looking around, he suspected nobody else even saw the flicker.

The dishes were piled with food. Roast beef, chicken, pork, lamb, sausages. bacon, steak…

Harry guessed this was as much about shock and awe for the muggleborns as it was convenient.

He helped himself to the chicken as students chattered. He noticed Hermione and a few others didn't talk much, though.

"So what are your plans here at Hogwarts, what made you choose it over other schools?" Harry asked.

Hermione blinked. "There are other schools? McGonagall didn't mention other schools when she came!"

Harry laughed. "I would be very surprised if she had. Hogwarts has a privileged position in Britain. Mainly because its Book of Students is how the Ministry learns about muggleborns, I think."

"But Hogwarts is the best school in the world!"

"Oh?" Harry asked. "According to who? By what measure?"

Hermione opened her mouth then paused. She looked a bit flustered.

"Well— that's what McGonagall said. She is the one who told us about magic."

"Are you familiar with the scientific method, Hermione?" Harry asked idly, stabbing his chicken.

"Yes, but this is magic—"

"I don't know about you," Harry interrupted, "But to me if something is to be useful, it must obey rules, no matter how vague. And magic definitely counts. It has repeatable behavior; a good thing, too, or spells wouldn't exist. Anything that shows any consistency at all can be subjected to the scientific method."

"Sounds like a bunch of muggle nonsense to me, mate," a boy sitting across from Hermione said.

Harry sighed. "I suppose it does."

He didn't see any point in trying to convince him. He'd seen through her eyes as Medea had tried with adult wizards and had no real success.

Hermione at least seemed to be thinking about it. Hopefully something would come of that.

"_Oh, what's this? Are you working on a minion?"_ Medea thought amusedly.

"_No,"_ Harry replied flatly.

* * *

The desserts were as over the top as the food. Harry was even more sure this was a ploy to get children to see Hogwarts in the most favorable light possible. To be fair, with the kind of healing magic available to wizards it barely mattered what you ate.

Harry just listened to the others. Hermione seemed really into what she was going to be learning. Most of the students were talking about other things like games or food. He noticed the girl from the boat ride sitting a few seats down by herself. She was focused on her food.

The banquet ended with Dumbledore standing and speaking. After going on about rules and Quidditch he casually mentioned that anyone who went down a third floor corridor would die a painful death. Most of the students didn't seem to think that was very strange.

Harry thought differently, but he said nothing.

After a painful sing-a-long, they started to leave the Great Hall.

"Follow me, please," said Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw prefect. She led them through a dizzying array of stairs and passages before they came to a stop at the top of a long spiral staircase. There was a door there with no handle or keyhole. The only thing on the aged wood was a bronze, eagle-shaped knocker.

Penelope knocked once.

"What can you put in a bucket full of water to make it lighter?" the knocker said.

After a moment of thought, Penelope said, "A hole."

"Correct," the knocker said. The door swung open.

Penelope led them inside. The Ravenclaw common room was a wide, circular room, with large arched windows decorated in silk. It was clear that during the day, the room would be brightly lit, with a view of the mountains. The room was full of tables, chairs, and books, and the ceiling was painted with stars.

Just inside the entrance was a statue of a beautiful woman, with a plaque that said it was Rowena Ravenclaw. Engraved on her circlet were the words, "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

Harry looked at the bookcases. If he was lucky, there would be unique books here beyond those available in the Hogwarts library. With the way Hermione looked at them, he thought maybe she found them more appetizing than any of the food at the feast.

"Alright, everyone," Penelope said. "Girls to the right, boys to the left." She gestured toward two staircases. Harry followed Robert Hilliard, the male Prefect, with a last glance toward Hermione.

"You'll be pleased to know our house has some of the more spacious dormitories, second only to Slytherin— but we don't have to worry about the damp." After a few people laughed, Robert continued. "As you can see, you'll be sleeping up here, in this turret. There is a lot of space, but try to keep your things in your individual trunks and beds and whatnot when not in use. It keeps things from getting confusing. This goes double for books."

The dormitory was very open. The four-poster beds sat in a row to the back of the room, with drawers to the sides and trunks at their feet. That section was a few steps higher than the rest of the room. There were a few armchairs in the lower area, with tall candlesticks for light.

"We don't have any nasty traps like Gryffindor, but please refrain from visiting the girls dormitory without clearing it with the girls in question. The same goes for here for them, though that's never been much of a problem."

"Well, that should be everything. You can find me if you have any questions, just head up the stairs until you get to the fifth dormitory on this side."

With that, Robert left the room.

Harry went to the only bed with no trunk. He climbed inside the curtains and summoned his trunk from the apartment. He got a few odd looks when he dragged it out and put it in front of the bed, but they probably tacked it up to shrinking charms or even just "magic".

The trunk had some basic charms on it, but he would add a bounded field after everyone else had gone to bed.

Harry crawled into the bed and tried to sleep. It took him a long time.

* * *

chapter end


	5. A Day in the Life

A Day in the Life

**AN: Welp. If you are reading this from an update alert, check the date. If you started this story before Nov. 3, 2014, then you should probably go back to the beginning unless you want to be confused. When I posted this chapter, I also replaced every previous chapter with completely rewritten stuff. I'm not talking editing, here, I mean from scratch. Not something I'm expecting to need to do again. It is a lot better in my opinion. So yeah, basically new story with the same premise. Reviews would be appreciated.**

"That's him."

"I don't believe any of it."

Harry discovered the downside of Ravenclaw shortly after the day started.

Everyone wanted answers.

He had been asked no less than 12 times so far about the specifics of Voldemort's defeat. As if he was likely to know anything they didn't.

Harry supposed he could see how they could think that, but it was still annoying.

At least it was better than what he got from Gryffindors. They would ask him similar questions, except they didn't really care about the mechanics. Furthermore, a good number of them were not very good at hiding their disappointment that he was not sorted into Gryffindor like his parents.

It was apparently unusual to end up in a house that differed from the ones your parents were in. Harry thought that was probably because most children did have many thoughts in their head that weren't put there by said parents in the first place.

Harry was lucky that Professor McGonagall had such a powerful presence. She was able to keep her class in tight order from the moment they sat down. As Transfiguration was the hardest thing they were going to learn, and the most important to his plans, this was a relief.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts…"

Hermione was the first to make any progress on transfiguring a needle. Harry quickly asked her for help, and together they were able to get their matches to turn into acceptable needles.

Harry started to become concerned when he overheard a few nasty comments about her between some of the other students.

After Transfiguration was Defense Against the Dark Arts.

This class was rather depressing. The room reeked of garlic. The teacher, Professor Quirrel, spent the period talking about vampires. He would tend to get nervous and change the subject if asked how to actually deal with them.

"So what are you going to be doing the rest of the day?" Harry asked Hermione on the way to lunch. He tried to ignore the whispering from the people they passed in the hall.

"Oh, after I finish the homework for Transfiguration, I was going to go to the library and see about memorizing the theory referenced in…"

Harry let her rattle on for a few minutes.

"I know something you might be interested in," he said casually.

"What?"

"Well… you know how wizard books often have animations and moving photographs and so forth?"

"Yes, I know," Hermione said impatiently.

"Well for the really big runs, they actually do have magical printing presses now. But there is also an advanced spell that can be used to permanently copy books that is used when they don't want to produce enough to justify setting up a press."

"Really? What is it!"

Harry handed her a sheet of parchment.

"Excribo scriptum... effingo ec materia... transverto?" she said in an increasing confused tone. "This isn't anything like the spells in our textbooks…"

"Of course it isn't. Those spells are for beginners who are learning magic for the first time. This spell is for wizards with the experience to be publishing something people would care to read in the first place. It isn't simplified for learning."

Harry didn't mention that it was the sort of spell that wouldn't even be put on their N.E.W.T.S. and that most wizards would never learn.

"Where did you learn about this? It sounds odd that you can just copy books like that…"

"Oh, you can't copy just any book, most of them are protected. But it would work on any muggle book, or notebooks. Anything with information that isn't explicitly protected with magic."

Hermione bit her lip. "That would be wrong, though, wouldn't it?"

Harry shrugged. "Just because it could be used that way doesn't mean you would, right? And I'm sure you've damaged a book you bought before, you could create copies of those."

He could tell he had her, despite her reservations.

"So I'm going to be working on that some every day. You can help, or not. Whatever you're comfortable with."

Hermione didn't say anything for the rest of lunch.

* * *

Ravenclaws could be as untrustworthy as any Slytherin, Harry decided.

It had taken them almost a week before trying, but the charms on his trunk were expertly dispelled such that he wouldn't have even known until he returned to the dormitory.

The bounded fields gave them more trouble. Security through obscurity wasn't a good policy, but that didn't mean it couldn't be effective. And it didn't get much more obscure than magic operating on a paradigm completely alien to anything wizards ever recorded using.

They had poked at the trunk for nearly the entire period, only giving up shortly before class let out.

Hermione had taken most of the day to fold and agree to help with the book spell, so long as he promised not to break any rules or do anything illegal with it. She was scandalized when he refused to make any such promise.

She folded on that after three more days.

Harry suspected that was because very few people were willing to talk to her. It wasn't her fault, but children could be petty, and children as obsessed with academics as Ravenclaws were only worse.

Whether it was talent or brute memorization and practice Harry wasn't sure yet, but the result was Hermione dominated the class rankings. He did as well, but for whatever reason people took this as something to be expected.

So they whispered nasty things about her and gave her a cold shoulder.

A part of him felt guilty for taking advantage of her loneliness, but he knew Medea would think that foolish. He merely was requiring her to accept him as he was, and if she couldn't do that they couldn't get along. A little moral flexibility wouldn't hurt her anyway.

Harry slid out of bed. It was Friday, and today would be their first class in History of Magic, Herbology, and Potions respectively. He'd heard History was as good as a free period, 'taught' by a ghost who just verbalized the textbook. Potions was said to be trouble, but he thought he'd do alright.

When Harry finally stepped into the common room he saw Hermione looking upset.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Lisa Turpin tried to get into my trunk last night. It bit her, though, and woke everyone up. I'm worried that someone will try something worse. I'm not stupid, I hear what people say about me…" Hermione bit out.

"People are just jealous. Clearly for good reason, since they aren't good enough to avoid getting bitten by a trunk," Harry reassured her.

"The only girl in my year that doesn't give me dirty looks is Lily Moon, and she doesn't look at anyone," Hermione griped.

"If it comes to it, we'll just talk to Flitwick. But I can't see them trying anything any time soon after that. Maybe we could get a seventh year to do your trunk at some point?" he suggested.

For a moment he considered bounded fields, but if Medea had drilled anything into him it was that a magus never just gave away their secrets. And Hermione wasn't the kind of girl to just accept him doing something like that without trying to figure it out. He didn't need any evidence he wasn't just a gifted student.

Harry sighed. His suggestion didn't seem like it was helping much. Hermione liked to fixate on problems. She was pacing in front of him.

"Pacing and worrying isn't going to help. If you want I can tell Lisa that I don't appreciate her bothering you."

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "And you expect her to stop because you asked nicely?"

"Well," Harry said dryly, "It would be nice to actually get something useful out of the way I've been being treated before they snap out of it."

Medea could probably coach him through it, too. She was a princess, after all.

"No, that wouldn't help," Hermione said.

"If you say so," Harry replied, shrugging. "If you don't want me to do that we'd best get to breakfast before it's too late." He started walking out of the room.

Hermione hurried up next to him as he walked.

Harry decided to change the subject. "So the book spell, have you made any progress on the part we were stuck on…"

* * *

History of Magic was as dull as he was led to believe. Hermione tried to get him to take notes but he firmly told her he would be working on the book spell. She tried to give him a cold shoulder, but by the end of the lesson she yielded.

Medea had commented in amusement that she expected he would have her properly trained by the end of the year. He didn't think that was very funny.

Herbology was alright, for a class that involved manual labor in a hot greenhouse. Still, Harry thought it was very unlikely he would ever work with plants outside of a classroom if he could help it.

Fortunately by lunch Hermione had gotten her mind off of nasty Ravenclaw girls and was chattering away about whether animate transfigurations were also technically charms.

It wasn't long before it was time for Potions.

Professor Snape started the class by taking the roll. Much like Flitwick, he took special notice of Harry Potter.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity."

Harry kept his face impassive as Snape finished with the roll. After a short speech with no real relationship between its boasts and actual potions, Snape looked at Harry again.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Draught of Living Death," Harry said immediately.

Snape started to say something then paused, and eyed him. For a moment Harry felt a faint flicker across his streams of thought.

Snape looked confused for a moment. There were a few more flickers, then Snape seemed to shake himself.

"Very well… Potion is written on the board, get ingredients and get to work," Snape said distractedly.

Snape didn't say anything to Harry for the rest of class.

* * *

Severus Snape was troubled.

He knew Potter would be trouble, but he had expected him to be irritating, not… concerning.

He stopped in front of a gargoyle. "Licorice."

The gargoyle moved to the side, the wall splitting to reveal a stairway.

Snape walked up the stairs briskly. He had just reached the oak door when Dumbledore's voice rang out, "Come in, Severus."

Snape stepped inside.

"What brings you here today, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"As you know, the first Potions class with the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs was today," Snape said. "I was… surprised by the quick response of Mr. Potter. I thought it out of character."

"Out of character?" Dumbledore said. "As compared to…"

"It doesn't matter," Snape deflected. "I... may have legilimenced him."

Dumbledore stopped.

"I'm guessing that there is more to it," he said with a troubled tone.

"The probe went in without issue, but… I was unable to pull forth any coherent memories. It was as if his mind was a blur of thoughts. Further, the magic of the probe itself was... eroded away."

Dumbledore sighed.

"Thank you for telling me about this, though I can't say I approve of your methods."

Severus nodded, and walked out.

Dumbledore gazed at the wall for a moment.

A very strange and troubling picture was being painted around Harry Potter. Taken from the Dursleys, without any visible effort and completely unknown, wandless spells. Not even a twitch from the blood protection in the process.

Completely hidden from him and everyone else for two years.

Found in time for Hogwarts, but even then the strange woman gave the impression he was not so much found as she deigned to reveal him. Powerful magic he could not even identify encapsulating the deceptively modest apartment.

And Harry… he did not act like a child should. The only question was if that was a product of whatever he experienced in those two years… or something much darker.

Dumbledore would tread carefully. But he would find out.

* * *

Getting the house elves had been an interesting experience.

To her surprise, the first response to her inquiry was not even from England. It was from a Apolline Delacour, in France.

When she met with the woman, she learned that she was half Veela— a race rumoured to have origins in Greece. It was easy to see how she might have recognized Medea's name.

"So I hear there is a witch named Medea Colchis looking for house elves in England," Apolline said. "I'm read up on Greek mythology. So I think to myself, what sort of mother would name her child Medea Colchis? What mother forgets names have power?"

She looked at Medea evenly. "Then I realized I'd never heard of a Colchis family. Couldn't find a trace of it. But the spells that broker uses don't let you put down a name that isn't yours."

"So tell me, Medea Colchis, why I should sell you house elves."

Medea looked at her for a moment.

"I can tell you aren't entirely human. It wouldn't surprise me if you could tell I'm not human either. I can tell you won't be swayed by gold, so I'll offer you something better."

Medea put out her hand, palm up. Space seemed to twist in her palm and revealed a shimmering device, purple and blue tinged metal with clamps.

"This is a magic device I created. You see, I find I do very poorly with wizard magic. Perhaps you are luckier in that regard…" She looked at Apolline. "But even if you are, this would be useful. It is locked in place around the base and tip of the wand. It amplifies the magical energy going into spells, the spells leaving the wand, or both. It can also extend a small cutting edge that works well for rituals. I made it, and there is nothing like it available anywhere else in the world, as far as I know."

Apolline looked at the Mystic Code. She hesitated.

"You're trouble. I'll take your deal, but I'll sell you the house elves and that will be the end of it. I don't want to get tangled in whatever mess you end up making here."

It didn't take long to finalize things, and Medea left short one Azoth Sword-derived wand augment and a considerable amount of precious materials, and gained 8 house elves. Apolline said not to contact her.

She would need to make another amplifier, but it wasn't urgent.

Now, Medea stood in a clearing in northern Ireland. It was a dreary day, but that didn't seem to bother the house elves as they cut and assembled granite, teleported from a quarry just across the border into Ireland proper last night.

Her home would be a fortress. The base structure assembled from granite and reinforced with carbon steel. Alteration eliminating every crack and seam. The center of the building would contain a ten meter tall, two wide pillar of jade, transmuted into a single whole from countless pieces. It would serve as the core of the tap for the three ley lines and the backbone of any wizard wards. The blueprints for the building included three basement levels surrounding the jade pillar as well as two floors on the surface, all wired for electricity.

There would be a wall encircling a hundred feet out, more as a symbolic anchor than as a serious defense.

There were several reasons to go to such extremes. It would keep them safe, true, but it was also a statement. Sooner or later, they would invite someone over, or their home would become known. And when that happened, people would see her power, and they would tread lightly.

* * *

Draco Malfoy.

The boy from the train.

He had clearly taken his deception badly. On their way out of the dungeons after Potions, they were confronted by Draco and his two minions.

"Potter," Draco said. "You thought you were funny on the train, didn't you. I told my father about you. He said you were nothing but a jumped up half blood."

Harry stared at him.

"You aren't supposed to say things like that," Hermione said heatedly.

"Who asked you anything, mudblood?" Draco said dismissively. Hermione turned red then suddenly burst into tears and ran.

"There goes your pet, Potter…"

"If she's a pet, what does that make your bookends there? Some sort of charity case?"

Draco flushed. "They are pureblood, which is more than be said for you. They shouldn't have even let you on the train, with your mother's filth tainting your blood."

Harry snapped. Infinite empty spaces echoed in his mind and his circuits lit. He grabbed Draco by his robe and yanked him forward, jabbing him in the forehead with his finger. At the last moment he stopped himself.

Shoving Draco, Harry said coldly, "You are nothing."

He turned and went to find Hermione.

Fortunately, he had inscribed a tracking rune on her wand after the attempt on her trunk. It didn't take him long to find her. Hermione had hidden away in a bathroom on the first floor.

Harry walked in and knocked on the stall. "Hermione?"

"What are you doing in here? This is a girls bathroom, you aren't supposed to be here," she said.

"I had a hunch you might be in here. You know Draco is an idiot, right? You're worth any ten of him and his bookends put together."

Hermione let out a short laugh. "Maybe you think so, but nobody else does. It doesn't matter how good I am, they'll always think I'm just the uppity muggleborn."

Harry sat there for a few minutes.

"Perhaps…" he said. "Perhaps you should ask yourself why you care what they think. I don't care what other people think of me. I know it seems easy for me to say that. But you don't need their approval."

"Yes, I do. You know me, always reading. It isn't spelled out in the library but I can put the pieces together when it's rubbed in my face. After Hogwarts it will only get worse."

"You have at least seven years to figure it out, and you won't get anywhere in a bathroom stall."

Hermione opened the door, her face streaked with tears. Harry pulled a projected cloth out of his pocket and she wiped her face.

Harry grinned mischievously. "So… I'm going to explore the third floor corridor. You in?"

"What!"

* * *

Hermione didn't like the idea, but she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't budge. The only question was whether she'd let him go alone. So of course she went with him, complaining the whole way.

"I'm telling you this is a bad idea," Hermione hissed. They were sneaking along after curfew in the dark. "What if something bad happens?"

"Don't worry Hermione," he assured her. "I learned several spells before Hogwarts." Her mouth opened and closed silently in outrage.

"You aren't allowed to do that!"

Harry put a hand over her mouth. They were at the start of the corridor in question.

Hermione bit him; he snatched his hand back. Still, she stopped talking for the moment.

Slowly, they moved down the corridor. Cobwebs and dust covered everything. At the end of the corridor, they stopped in front of a door. The door had clearly been used recently; it had no dust or cobwebs on it.

Harry reached out and jiggled the knob. The door was locked.

Hermione laughed nervously. "Well, there you go. The door is locked—"

"_Alohamora,_" Harry cast. The lock clicked.

"You're going to teach me that spell," Hermione said.

"Sure," Harry said nonchalantly. He opened the door.

"Oh."

Harry slammed the door shut moments before the enormous three-headed dog slammed into it.

"I told you this was a bad idea!" Hermione shouted.

"No, it went just fine," Harry replied. "Or it will be fine if nobody heard you."

Fortunately, they managed to return to the common room without any trouble.

"Now, did you notice anything other than the dog?" Harry asked.

"No!" Hermione said shrilly.

"Well you should work on that. There was a trapdoor under the dog," Harry said.

"Of course you are thinking about going back," Hermione muttered.

Suddenly she stiffened. Harry turned and saw Lily Moon on the couch staring at them.

"So how much did you hear?" Harry asked.

"...everything," she said quietly.

Harry walked over and sat next to her. She looked at him.

"Hermione, you should go to bed. I'll talk to Lily."

Hermione looked conflicted. Finally she huffed and went upstairs.

Harry looked back at Lily. "I didn't know eyes came in violet," he remarked.

"...they don't," she said. If anything she seemed more nervous, looking at him with wide eyes.

"If I asked you not to tell anyone what you heard, could you do that?" he asked.

"I… yes!"

Harry leaned toward her. Clearly something wasn't right. "Are you... afraid of me?" he asked.

"What? No!" Lily said, sounding almost panicked.

"_Oh for god's sake. She's aroused you idiot," _Medea said to him through their link.

Harry froze.

"_What? She's twelve!"_

"_You think twelve year olds can't have a crush? It isn't like a wall switch. The important thing here is she isn't going to do anything she thinks you wouldn't like. In fact, with the way she's acting, I'd say she might do anything you asked. So don't worry about it,"_ Medea said amusedly.

Harry sighed.

"Alright," he said, changing the subject. "...So, you said eyes don't come in violet. But I could swear your eyes are violet."

Lily blushed. "Ah… I don't know. Maybe its only muggles who don't have violet?" she said weakly.

"Oh, okay," Harry said. "I guess you lucked out then." Lily blushed harder and nodded jerkily.

Despite himself, Harry felt an urge to see how red he could make her. He casually put his arm around her and said, "I think your eyes are very pretty." She stiffened up and said, "O-oh."

Harry leaned back into the couch, lightly pulling an unresisting Lily with him. Harry just sat there like that for a while. Lily slowly relaxed against him.

She let out a shuddering breath. "So… I know the children's stories, about you, they are just stories."

Harry glanced at her as she continued. "But I've been watching you. Obviously." Her cheeks tinged. "So even if you aren't like, a knight in shining armor… you're different."

"Oh?"

Lily looked up at him nervously.

"Yeah… you know what you want, and you don't let anybody change your mind. I've seen Hermione sulking about it… and I saw how you handled Draco." Lily paused.

"I'm in trouble," she said in a rush. "I don't know if you can help me or not, but if you can't I don't know who can."

"What kind of trouble exactly?" Harry asked. Lily hesitated.

"I… when I was like, eight? My parents tested a spell on me," she said slowly. "It let me sense magic, like seeing it but without using my eyes?"

"It wasn't the first time they did something to me, but this time… wizards showed up, in grey robes with hoods. They killed my father. My mother only had time to get away because of my sense and my father delaying them." She took a slow breath.

"But even though she apparated to London with me, they followed, somehow. She told me to run… I've been avoiding them ever since. I think they could track me… I'm pretty sure they'd have caught me if I couldn't see them coming." She went silent and sagged. "I came here because I thought they couldn't take me here, but I'm afraid they'll be right there when I leave and... that'll be it."

After a while, Harry spoke.

"So you think I can help you just because of how I act."

"Sort of? Your magic is different. It's heavier. Some of the hooded men were a little like that. The only other time I've sensed it is on the third floor here. I know it isn't much, but it's not like I have any better options," she said with a tinge of bitterness.

Harry froze. "I'm… heavier. And I'm not the only one."

An echo of oblivion. Harry activated all 24 of his circuits and Lily flinched.

"Well that answers that…"

"_Medea… things may not be as easy as we thought."_

* * *

chapter end


	6. Stupid Dog

Stupid Dog

It was quite likely that he was a little paranoid, Harry decided. Then again, going by Lily's experience, it was possible Medea's own paranoia was the only reason they hadn't had their door kicked in. Not that they'd exactly roll over, but it would certainly have been a lot of trouble.

Was it paranoia if they were really out to get you?

"_You can't fight an adult wizard, not in a fair fight," _Medea commented. "_This girl has the ability to see them coming and after four years, she definitely has the inclination. Even if her enemies aren't after you, she can still help you with your own. It shouldn't be too hard to ensure she stays out of their hands."_

So instead of going to bed, he took Lily to an unused classroom down a dusty corridor.

"What I am going to do, you can't tell anyone. Ever."

She nodded quickly.

Harry kept anything sensitive in his expanded bag, which never left his person. Even still, he had to summon a few items from the apartment, where Medea had basically dropped what she was doing to set them up and coach him through things.

He did not know much about tracking magic, but Medea did.

"You seem almost relaxed," Harry asked as he carefully carved lines into the floor.

"It reminds me of before," she said. "The last time I was in a situation like this was the last time I felt safe, and that was four years ago."

Harry figured it was probably actually very strange to be relaxed by being an experimental subject, but it wasn't like his life was much better.

"You said you see magic. Is there any on you that shouldn't be there?" Harry pulled out small titanium cubes and placed them around the circle.

"I didn't have this ability before that night, so… I don't know." Lily sounded frustrated.

"Well, tell me if anything changes from what I'm doing."

Harry stood in front of the circle.

"_You will be relying on brute force and your own unique attributes, here. I had hoped that wizardry would replace these sort of mysteries in your metaphorical toolkit, but it seems your needs are more… immediate than I planned for."_

Normally, the spells of modern magi were defined by a thaumaturgical theory, stabilized and engraved into the world by a school and with an efficiency defined by belief. For these, the incantation is simply the trigger.

Harry had no magecraft schools to draw on.

For personal spells, the incantations become more important. They help the magus enter the correct state of mind. The words aren't important; what matters is the meaning.

Harry had no spells for this. He could not find the meaning to create one, not so quickly.

What he had was a rudimentary Formalcraft circle, an Element that let his desire influence the outcome, and an excess of prana-charged titanium.

"**Actualization.**"

Harry triggered the cubes and the circle lit up in a flare of actinic white. Lily seemed to convulse. He imagined for her the circle was like standing in a fire.

"**Void.**"

His origin. Even the mental trigger for his circuits was a void, emptiness.

His intent was to twist that to the idea of voiding any magic in the circle. It didn't quite fit, but that was what self-hypnosis was for. That, the flexibility of his element, and three months of prana-charged titanium would have to bridge the gap.

The circle flared. The titanium cubes melted as the light dimmed.

Harry waited as Lily breathed raggedly. After about half a minute, she looked up. The dim light reflected off the sweat on her face.

"I can tell something is gone, though I don't know what it was." She looked exhausted, but hopeful.

"That's better than I hoped for, honestly," Harry said. "I wasn't even sure if they had something on you. Now I'm going to place a tracker on you of my own, if you don't mind."

Lily smiled halfheartedly. "You didn't even need to ask."

The tracking spell was done with rune magecraft, and was a lot simpler. He just painted the rune Berkano on the small of her back and pushed his prana into it. Afterwards, he felt like he could tell where she was, even with his eyes closed.

"If something happens to you, now I'll know where you are," he said.

They walked back to the Ravenclaw common room as the sky lightened. Harry collapsed on his bed.

"_I don't suppose you can wake me when it's time to get up?"_

"_I suppose I can do that. I wasn't planning on sleeping myself until the house was complete."_

Harry closed his eyes and fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

As Harry laid down, Medea was wide awake. She packed up everything valuable still in the apartment and took it all with her back to the work site.

House elves could go without sleep quite a long time, and they needed very little rest. The stone was actually all in place; the holdup was the speed she could accurately fuse granite blocks with Alteration. The wood and carpet and everything else was missing, but it wasn't important.

She would not die a third time, not through any mistake on her part.

Medea had already contacted the goblins. Their most knowledgeable warding team would be at her disposal tomorrow. Tonight, she would engrave the sigils and runes to power herself using the ley lines running through the land. She would fuse all the damn blocks. And once the wards were in place, she would be visiting the dregs of wizard society.

Too many unanswered questions. It was time for more aggressive research.

* * *

"_Time to wake up."_

Harry got up drearily. "_Anything happen while I was asleep?"_

"_Just me accelerating the timetable on my project."_

Of course she did.

Harry sighed and got up. He staggered to the showers.

By the time he got downstairs, Hermione was already there and clearly wanting answers.

"What happened last night?" she whispered as Harry walked up. "Lily didn't come in until I was asleep."

She eyed him suspiciously.

"Oh, I spoke to Lily," Harry said lightly. "She won't say anything." He started walking to breakfast.

"That isn't an answer!" Hermione said, following.

"I don't know why I even listened," she mumbled.

Harry resisted the urge for only a moment.

"Oh, you're just beginning to learn your place."

Hermione gaped at him.

"I'm joking," he said dryly.

"That is not funny!"

About ten minutes after they arrived at breakfast, Lily came in. She looked even more tired than Harry felt. He caught her attention and indicated the seat next to him.

Hermione seemed to be looking closely at her.

"She looks really tired for just a talk…"

As Lily sat down, Hermione said, "So what happened last night?"

Lily blushed and glanced at Harry. She didn't say anything.

Hermione glared at Harry. He kept eating.

"If you don't eat you'll just be hungry before lunch."

Hermione huffed and ate.

Afterward, Harry asked Hermione and Lily to follow him. He led them to the same classroom he used last night. The only evidence that remained was a charred circle with bits of melted titanium— not that most people would recognize the metal on sight. The rest of the room was empty save for a few desks, chairs, and a lot of dust.

"So Lily is going to be working with us on the third floor corridor," Harry said abruptly.

Hermione started. "What?"

"Well, she already overheard enough," he glanced at Hermione, "and you yourself said she was one of the nicer ones. You want to help, right Lily?"

Lily nodded.

"You still haven't told me what happened last night after I left," Hermione said irritably.

"I could," Harry admitted. "But I'm not always going to tell you everything. Telling you this will only postpone you throwing a fit."

Hermione gaped at him. "I-What-I can't believe— ugh!"

Hermione stormed out of the room.

"..Is she always like that?" Lily asked hesitantly.

There was a pause.

"Hermione is very willful," Harry said slowly. "She is intelligent, but I think she is often driven by her emotions rather than her logic. To be honest, I think it is only her isolation that leads her to come back each time. Of course, it is her… opinionated nature that is the reason she is isolated in the first place."

Lily nodded quietly.

"Since she's gone, why don't you explain more about the differences between me and others, as regards your ability."

"I thought you were like some of the cloaked men, but… that isn't quite right. One or two of them were… heavier, more dense. But you are heavier than they are. And last night, when you did… whatever you did…" She shuddered. "If most magic is like frosted glass, you were like an impenetrable cloud."

"I think we should call them greycloaks for now," Harry muttered. "And the corridor?"

"It is more like a trail of smoke. It is thin, but still thicker than even the, ah, greycloaks. Always less than you. But it gets stronger down the corridor and I don't know how far..." She trailed off. "You have a bit of a trail too. But it fades quickly."

"Is it just me, or are you a lot more confident when I'm asking you questions?" Harry asked.

"I learned to answer questions concisely. Before." Lily glanced at him.

Harry nodded slowly. He pulled out his wand.

"Well since I'm probably going to be short a partner for another project for a while… How is your transfiguration?"

"_Actually. You should see about some sort of combat spell,"_ Medea interrupted. "_You are pretty much defenseless right now."_

Lily looked at him curiously as he paused. Harry looked at her and grinned wryly.

"Actually… I think we should work on defense. I'm sure you can guess why."

Lily nodded quickly.

* * *

With a crack, Medea appeared with a man in the lobby of St. Mungos. She handed him a galleon and he nodded and apparated back out.

It was annoying, but one thing apparition and spatial transportation shared in common was she couldn't teleport somewhere she hadn't been. On the upside, this meant it was also common for wizards to need someone to take them somewhere for the first time. It hadn't taken her long to find a wizard willing to do so.

She was, to use muggle parlance, casing the place. Ideally she would hit a prison, but the only prison was in the North Sea, and she couldn't just find someone to show her there so easily. Serial line-of-sight teleportation didn't work very well over oceans, not even getting to it being out of range of her ley line taps and thus wholly dependent on her internal reserves. Medea would rather not go swimming.

Medea was standing in the reception area. She glanced at the rickety chairs and the people waiting there. Many of them suffered from ridiculous ailments.

"Bloody wizards," she muttered.

She went up by the reception desk. Next to the desk was a large panel describing the various floors.

Medea sighed. While this was a viable source of test subjects, she would probably be better off just mugging some idiot in Knockturn for now.

She teleported, first to the apartment and then to Knockturn after astralizing. It didn't take long for her to find a man who was standing in a smaller alley. He looked like he was planning to jump someone himself.

Medea de-astralized behind him.

"**ύπνου**." The man dropped.

Medea picked him up disgustedly and teleported home. The goblins would be finished by now.

* * *

Hermione was angry. Harry just didn't understand. He shouldn't keep things from her, or disobey the rules…

And now Lily was there, and who knows what they were up to.

It wouldn't be the first time she thought she made a friend, and then they got new friends and next thing you know he wouldn't have time for her… no, that wasn't right. It wasn't the same. She couldn't quell that small doubt though.

Hermione was in the library. Despite herself, she was looking at the book spell again. She shouldn't be helping him with it, but…

"That is an unusual spell to see a student studying your age."

Hermione jumped and turned around to see Dumbledore. The Headmaster!

"Oh my god, Dumbledore, I mean…"

Dumbledore laughed. "It's all right. I am curious though. Where on earth did you find the permanent book duplicating transfiguration? I didn't think it was in the library here. Very difficult spell, you know."

"Is that what it's called?" Hermione said. "Oh, it is. I was just calling the book spell because Harry calls it that, he gave me it, we've been working on it…" She trailed off and looked nervous.

Dumbledore frowned thoughtfully. "Ah. Harry Potter…"

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no… I just worry about him. I knew his parents, you see. Some strange things have been going on around him. Perhaps you could tell me how he's doing?"

Hermione looked at him.

"Well…"

* * *

Harry was uncertain what to do.

He came here for the books. However, he would not have done that if he had not believed that he and Medea knew everything that was likely to happen. Now they were faced with "heavy" trails leading down corridors full of "painful death" — as announced to a bunch of 12 year olds — in the middle of a school and mysterious wizards that kill off families and hunt little girls without anyone saying a word about it.

It was like something off of some conspiracy flick he'd caught bits of at the Dursleys.

At least Medea felt like he should investigate the corridor now. He'd also been practicing a few "dueling" spells with Lily. He'd teach Hermione when she mellowed down and spoke to him again, it should make her happier…

Maybe Medea was right. He needed more friends. It wasn't his fault they were normal children and they had nothing in common.

Harry sighed. Hermione had looked at him oddly during lunch. Surprisingly, Lily skipped lunch. Shy or not, apparently she became absolutely single minded when it came to learning anything that she could use in a fight. Now that he thought about it… She evaded teleporting bogeymen who she couldn't fight and who eventually showed up anywhere she went for four years. Starting at the age of eight. The real question was how she wasn't a complete mental wreck.

Right now, Harry was alone in 'his' classroom. Lily was sleeping after exhausting herself.

"_So I've discovered some things."_

"_Oh?" _Harry said.

"_I thought your element was unusual… but my test subject also had the sixth imaginary element. So I went out and started looking. Every wizard I've looked at has that element, all of them. And none of them have ever activated their circuits. Most don't even have circuits."_

"_Well… it was obvious early on that wizard spells didn't draw on my circuits at all. And you don't even have circuits."_

"_Wizard spells draw my prana when I use them, though. I knew something was odd with this but I just didn't have the space and time…"_

Medea sounded frustrated.

"_Don't blame yourself. You've been busy, and had no reason to believe you needed to know any of this so urgently."_

Harry didn't think his attempted consolation was going to help much.

"_We need to learn more about anything that even remotely resembles prana. These 'greycloaks' might show up at end of the year. But whatever is down that corridor is available now. I will try and make something to help, but you need to figure it out."_

"_I know."_

Harry had a great deal of confidence in himself, but… he was twelve.

This sounded like it was going to end very badly.

* * *

Harry thought about taking Lily, but in the end decided not to. Her senses were useful, but otherwise she was just an ordinary student. She hadn't been taught dodging, and she didn't have his magecraft; it was more utility than weapon, but it was still an ace.

And ultimately, he was supposed to be protecting her, not throwing her into the line of fire.

According to legend, Cerberus was put to sleep with drugged food and with music respectively. Medea had sent him a tacky music box. It was magic, though, and would play indefinitely.

Harry opened the box just outside the door at the end of the corridor. He waited a minute while it played, and then unlocked the door and eased it open.

The three-headed dog was sleeping. After a moment of disgust at a guard that could be disarmed using instruction from a common muggle story, Harry placed the box down and walked over to the trapdoor. He opened it and looked down. Way down.

It was probably just dark… and there wasn't anything he could do in the near future to make this any less dangerous.

Harry pulled out a faintly glowing glass sphere and dropped it down.

It fell quite a distance and then disappeared completely. No impact noise, but no light.

"_Arresto momentum_," Harry cast on himself as he jumped. He held the spell, falling slowly until he landed in a pile of thick, dark vines.

...The vines were moving. Harry tried to climb out but they had wrapped around his limbs and were tightening down. If Harry had not reinforced his body, his bones would have been shattered.

Desperately, he fired the stunning charm repeatedly into the plant. It reacted violently, squeezing hard. Harry heard the bones in his left arm break with a sickening crack.

Harry screamed in pain as it started to pull him inward.

He could smell an acrid scent. He wrenched at the vines, but couldn't get free… or wait!

"_Expelliarmus!_"

The vines spasmed and threw Harry into the wall. They immediately reached for him again, but Harry cast the severing charm wildly at the vines. The plant almost seemed to shake with rage. Harry crawled toward the hallway he could see leading away from the plant.

He was pulled short as it wrapped around his ankle and started to squeeze.

"_Expelliarmus, diffindo, diffindo, diffindo…_"

Harry finally crawled out of range of the plant and collapsed to the floor. Even with reinforcement, his body was bruised black and blue and his bones ached. His left arm was broken outright.

"_This isn't going to work,"_ Medea murmured. "_I was expecting the Headmaster's claims of a painful death to be less… literal."_

"_He probably assumed anyone who passed the fucking dog wasn't a student."_

Harry winced and slowly sat up against the wall. He couldn't go back through the plant, and he lacked sufficient understanding to create teleportation circles that could move living things. Even then, teleporting humans through anti-apparition wards was apparently very 'loud', and the last thing he wanted to do was cause people to think about improving them.

"_Do you have any idea what the plant is?"_

"_Mmm. Here we are. Devil's Snare. Light is its weakness. Give me a minute."_

It took half an hour for him to learn the sunlight charm, Medea relaying the book's instructions and him testing it against the wall.

Tiredly, Harry walked over to the plant.

"_Lumos solem._"

The plant retracted rapidly from the searing beam of light. Harry stumbled into the cleared space and slowly levitated himself by his shirt up the shaft. He made his way past the dog, collecting the music box.

It took him an hour to get back to his classroom. He set his arm, downed a bone knitting potion and dreamless sleep, and sprawled out on the stone floor.

* * *

"...Harry? Harry!"

He blinked and looked up. Lily was standing above him looking at him.

"You're lucky it's Sunday."

His body burned as she dragged him into a sitting position.

"What happened to you?" She pulled his cloak away, revealing the terrible bruising on his skin.

"I made the mistake of thinking Dumbledore wouldn't really put a lethal trap in a school," Harry said.

"Oh, Merlin, your skin…"

"Apparently there isn't really a good potion for bruises," Harry said with a pained chuckle.

"Why didn't you say anything!" Lily said in an upset tone.

"Like what? Hermione isn't reliable and you… well, you wanted help getting out of trouble, not in it."

"You can't help if you're dead!"

"I see how it is…" Harry said jokingly.

"...Is there anything I can do to help?" Lily asked in a softer tone.

Harry sighed. "I don't know… I suppose applying Dittany and Murtlap might help, but neither is really meant for this." Lily looked at him resolutely. "Fine…" Harry pulled essence of Dittany and Murtlap out of his bag and handed them to her.

Harry laid back and dozed as Lily applied the potions.

Unfortunately he was woken up by shrieking.

"What did- what is- Harry!?"

He looked around sluggishly. He was stretched out with most of his clothing removed. He was covered in faded bruises and the somewhat oily potions, Lily kneeling next to him, blushing lightly. Hermione was standing just inside the door gaping at him.

"I have a perfectly good explanation for this."

* * *

chapter end

A/N:

Revision: Added paragraph to ch1 in which Medea snuffs out the dream cycle after the first night. Private girl is private.

Bah, the "fight" with the plant feels a bit weak. I blame it on flailing inside plants being hard to make sound interesting. Everything feels weak! But eh, this fic (and its prior version) are basically my only writing ever, so eh.

I feel like I'm being mean to Hermione… but I haven't said anything that isn't true, have I?


	7. Halloween

"Well…"

Harry hesitated.

"I took a trip past the dog," he said, looking at Hermione. She had her moments, but the way she reacted to things was beginning to wear on him.

Hermione looked like she didn't even know what to say for a moment.

"I should tell someone, before you get yourself killed or something," she muttered.

Harry paused. Suppressing a spike of irritation, he thought about what to say carefully.

"I would like to think you are my friend, Hermione," he started. Hermione looked up at him with a slightly surprised expression.

"...but if you did that, I don't think we could be friends." Harry was taught to avoid ultimatums, but all things had their time and place.

"What! But what you are doing is wrong! And dangerous! You're already hurt and you'll get caught and… and... you'll lose points!" Hermione said in a rush, a flustered expression on her face.

"Maybe," Harry said calmly. "But the fact is I have to be able to trust my friends. You ought to know by now I'm not going to change, and if I can't tell you things without you telling others, knowing I don't want that, then I can't trust you."

Hermione stood there for a moment and made a frustrated noise. She fidgeted.

"...Fine," she said bitterly, looking down. "You're going to get in trouble eventually, whether I say anything or not."

Hermione sat down a few feet from Lily.

After a few minutes of silence, during which Lily finished applying the various potions, she spoke.

"So what did you find?"

Harry gave a short laugh. She reddened, but looked at him challengingly.

"Well, under the trapdoor is a long shaft. At the bottom is a Devil's Snare. That is how I was injured," Harry answered shortly.

Hermione mouthed something to herself. She seemed bewildered for a moment, then snapped her head up.

"Wait. Devil's Snare… How are you _alive_?"

Harry grinned. "I have no idea what you mean." He couldn't resist provoking her.

Hermione's shriek of frustration could be heard all the way down the hall.

* * *

Harry was lying in his bed that evening, when Medea spoke.

"_Harry."_

Medea had been oddly quiet since last night. Harry had wondered why, but he knew she would just clam up if he had asked.

"_Yeah?"_

"_I… need to apologize. I shouldn't have asked you to go down there. I've always been a bit… impulsive."_

"_You don't seem very impulsive to me."_ The only time Harry could recall her acting impulsive was when she was shopping.

"_I try to restrain myself most of the time. It is rare that I do something this… monumentally foolish."_ She sounded bitter. "_The last time was the Grail war, actually. As you know, I was summoned by a terrible Master. I contrived so that he wasted every command seal. And then rather than simply incapacitating him… I found myself so disgusted with our contract that I killed him to be rid of it. It was only afterward I gave any real thought to what I had done. I tried to reach a temple where the ley lines converged, but… I didn't make it."_

Harry sighed. She had always glossed over the end to that story.

"_It isn't all on you, you know. I knew it was a stupid idea and I still did it."_

Medea laughed. "_...I suppose."_

* * *

Harry cut his arm again. Wincing, he aimed his wand at the wound and said carefully, "_Episkey._" The tear knitted back together slightly. Harry repeated the healing spell three more times before the wound closed completely.

Harry eyed the blood. "_Scourgify."_ The blood vanished. Harry had learned the hard way not to use that spell on an open wound. The way it interacted with an unbroken chain of 'mess' continuing into the flesh was… painful.

He moved the knife to cut his arm again, when he was interrupted.

"Harry? What are you doing?"

Glancing toward the door, he saw Hermione looking at his arm.

"...Are you _cutting yourself?_" she said in an incredulous tone.

Harry laughed. "How else am I going to practice healing spells?"

Hermione looked slightly ill. "Surely there is a better solution…" She shook her head suddenly.

"I know you seem to have this super-prepared thing going and I do approve of learning but you really shouldn't be going so far as to start _cutting yourself up!_" Hermione said, her voice rising as she spoke.

"So, what is Lily up to," Harry deflected. He knew Hermione wouldn't approve of any reasoning he was willing to give. Not that she'd approve of the reasons he wasn't willing to give either…

"I assume she is off doing whatever it is you last told her to do," Hermione said, frowning. She seemed bothered by Lily's tendency to do whatever Harry told her without question— somewhat ironic, given how she was about teachers and rules.

Still, she didn't bring it up directly anymore. She had a habit of phrasing questions such that the answers she did not like sounded wrong. This backfired when instead of defending herself Lily just got upset and refused to talk to her.

"That's just how she is," Harry said lightly, putting the knife down.

"She doesn't act like that with anyone else!"

To be honest, Harry was curious himself, but he wasn't going to set off that mess, especially with Hermione around.

"So what brings you up here?" Harry asked idly, standing up. He brushed off his pants and robe.

"It's Halloween, you know. The feast is about to start, why are you up here?"

Harry sighed. "I don't really celebrate Halloween. It is also the day my parents died, you know."

Hermione gave him a surprised look. "Oh! I should have thought of that, I knew that…"

She paused. "Are you going to just sit up here cutting yourself then?" Harry gave her a flat look.

"That sounds a lot worse than it really is when you say it like that."

"Surely there is another way to practice, I can't imagine wizards going about cutting each other," Hermione said.

"If you must know, the standard practice is to injure animals repeatedly, then test on more humanlike magical creatures until you are sufficiently skilled to work on 'people'."

"What!" Hermione said in shock. "I can't believe that! That's monstrous!"

"Wizards do not have the same morality as muggles," Harry said tiredly. "Theirs is… older. They do not ask the mouse if it wants to be a teacup, or if the conjured bird wishes to vanish. Creatures, with or without intelligence... they don't have rights. Even wizards have very few rights. You don't see me suing the people publishing those ridiculous children's books, do you?"

Hermione just stared at him.

"I'm guessing you didn't know. I'm not surprised, someone seems to have gone out of their way to whitewash everything for the muggleborns, from the books to the food. No roast swan for dinner here." Harry gave a small, grim smile. "You should do the research, you'll see what I'm talking about."

"I… what… I need to..." Hermione walked out mumbling about checking her books.

Harry picked up the knife.

* * *

Harry wandered the halls. After discussing it with Medea, he felt it would be useful to talk to every ghost in Hogwarts. After all, they had been here longer than even Dumbledore. If anyone knew interesting things, it would be them.

Currently, he was looking for 'Moaning Myrtle'. Apparently, she haunted the first floor girl's bathroom. When he pointed out that didn't sound very nice, Sir Nicholas merely said that she died there and was exorcised, and if I wanted to know anything more ask her.

Medea was very interested in wizard ghosts, for obvious reasons.

"Myrtle?" Harry called out questioningly at the entrance to the bathroom.

There was no reply.

Hesitantly, Harry opened the door and stepped inside. The bathroom was empty. Harry paused. Nicholas said Myrtle's bathroom was out of order…

A deep grunt came from behind him.

Harry turned around, and stared at the rather large troll filling the doorway.

"_...Medea?"_

"_Mm— ...What."_

There was silence for a moment.

"_...you know, after the corridor I seriously considered mugging a policeman in Belfast and sending you a submachine gun. But then I decided I was overreacting."_

"_In the future, feel free to overreact,"_ Harry said in a monotone.

The troll focused on him and started lumbering forward, knocking sinks loose with its club without even noticing.

Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the troll. It looked at him stupidly.

"Fuck it. _Lumos solem._"

A searingly bright beam of light hit the troll in the face. It roared, reeling back, its club smashing into the wall. Harry ran toward the door, angling to pass the troll on it's left.

The troll suddenly started swinging the club blindly. As it approached his head Harry dropped into a roll, coming back up onto his feet. The club slammed into the other wall, shards of stone flying. Harry couldn't help a pained noise when a few shards sliced him.

Blinking furiously, the troll turned, shattering through another wall with its club. Harry was struck by more fragments of stone as he dived through the door.

Harry quickly turned and pointed his wand at the doorway.

"_Colloportus colloportus colloportus." _The door swung in fitful starts, finally shutting and clicking.

Harry ran toward the door and slapped his hand to it.

—_Boundless space_—

Harry's circuits lit. "**Analysis. Reinforce.**" Harry structurally grasped and reinforced the door as far as he dared. Traceries of light etched themselves across its surface, straight lines splitting and changing paths in jagged patterns.

The door shuddered as the troll slammed it, but it appeared to be holding.

Harry eyed the door as he ran. Just as he reached the end of the corridor, he saw McGonagall come running in the other end, followed by Snape and Quirrell.

He'd leave them to it.

* * *

The students were in an uproar about the troll. Some of the rumors even claimed that Harry defeated it. Harry assumed this was just speculation, since he wasn't questioned. Someone must have noticed his absence from the feast.

Harry was amused to hear the Charms professor had spent several hours examining the bathroom door before the last dregs of his reinforcement faded.

"_The corridor was bad enough, but at least that was something you had to seek out. But this is just… I don't even have words."_

"_What is the status of the house?"_ Harry interrupted. Medea had gone over the same things several times by this point.

"_Mh? Oh, it isn't too bad. Without the need for Alteration, the elves could install most of it. The actual defenses are in place."_

"_So… you think we could smuggle Lily out? I think I need to re-evaluate things and I don't think she would handle it well if I left her here alone," _Harry said.

"_If she is being watched, they will notice. But they probably won't be able to follow. If they do… it won't be a problem."_ Medea sounded amused by the thought. "_Everything suspicious is below ground, just so you know. Do you have any intention as regards Hermione?"_

Harry thought about it for a moment. "_Not sure yet. I take it you have no opinion?"_

"_Well… I'm fine with it. She would provide more data on wizards, I suppose. Obviously we would keep magecraft away from anyone we bring here."_

Harry headed to breakfast. When he got there, he saw Hermione and Lily were not present.

He frowned but sat down anyway. Looking around, he saw several of the teachers looking at him. Snape, though, seemed to be limping. Harry narrowed his eyes. That was strange.

Shrugging it off, Harry started eating. After a few minutes, someone tapped on his shoulder.

Harry turned around to see a Slytherin girl with glasses shuffling nervously. She handed him a note and ran off. He opened it.

"_I've heard terrible things about you from Malfoy. But I know better than to just believe anything I'm told. I spoke to Crabbe and Goyle, and I find what you did wasn't to show him up at all. I'd like to speak to you, should you have the time._

_Parkinson."_

It could be a trap. But even if it was, Parkinson sounded far more reasonable than most students. Which he still needed to make an effort to talk to more of…

Harry decided to write a reply after he ate and send it via… hm. He'd have to give this some thought.

* * *

Harry discussed the letter with Medea. She felt that he should send his reply in the same fashion. In the end Harry had Lily take a letter to Parkinson at lunch. It was short, saying only that he was willing to listen, with directions to an unused classroom and a time.

He had stolen several chairs and a couch and placed them in the room. Right now, he was sitting in one of the chairs, waiting.

It wasn't long before Harry heard footsteps outside. The door opened slowly.

Pansy Parkinson slipped in the doorway carefully. She had brown hair and a hard face. Her wand was in her hand, though she had it at her side. She was looking at him and around the room carefully.

"If you don't trust me, why did you come?" Harry asked, leaning back.

Pansy snorted. "I came because I don't know what to make of you, and I don't like that."

She walked over to a chair and sat down on it carefully. Pansy looked at him.

"The first thing I heard about you was from Malfoy. He was complaining about how you had no respect for your betters, trying to fool him or some such. But nobody else says much about you, so I asked Malfoy's little guards." Pansy waved her hand lazily as she spoke.

"Apparently, what you did was as simple as telling him you hadn't seen Harry Potter. Not what I would have expected. But what I really found interesting was your spat over the, ah, muggleborn girl." Pansy smiled at him.

"Oh?" Harry said idly.

"Yes. You didn't say much, didn't even reply to him until he started insulting your pet. But then you, what, lost your patience with the boy? Just grabbed him by the collar with a look like you could kill him and it wouldn't bother you at all. Then you freeze, tell him he's nobody, and walk away."

Pansy leaned back, crossing her arms. "Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived? I'm not some idiot girl to care about you not dying at the age of one. But the boy in that hall… well, he's interesting."

Harry's face went blank. "You're going to have to be more specific about what you want, Parkinson."

Slowly, she leaned forward.

Harry looked at her.

"I want you to show me something special. That you aren't just an overblown orphan Ravenclaw." Pansy paused. "As for why you should… the girls in Slytherin? In my year, they're mine. If you are as interesting as I'm thinking, you would have some use for students in Slytherin. If only because they shouldn't be quite as stupid as what you have to work with."

Harry thought for a moment, then lit his circuits. Pansy seemed to tense slightly, even though he knew there was nothing she could sense. Perhaps from his face?

Harry leaned toward her and reached out his hand, palm up. Pansy looked at him.

"Your hand," Harry said. Pansy eyed him, then gave him her hand.

Harry raised his other hand in clear view, then pushed prana directly into her.

Pansy seized up and made an agonized sound. She shuddered and fell back into her chair, hand slipping from his. She whimpered.

Harry leaned back. After about a half a minute broken by the occasional unintelligible noise, Pansy stopped shaking.

"What… Potter?" She blinked, then focused on him. "What the hell was that?"

"Was that interesting enough?" Harry asked curiously.

"If by interesting you mean painful! But yes, I saw, no wand." It seemed being given a pulse of foreign prana and the subsequent seizure had left her a bit off her game. Which was the point.

He knew it wouldn't cause any lasting damage. Or it didn't for any of Medea's adult test subjects, anyway. Usually.

"I'm not going to explain what I did just now. You have your proof I'm not 'just another Ravenclaw'. If you want more you are going to have to prove yourself useful."

Pansy looked at him. "If you think I'm just going to fall in line like one of your pet Ravens—"

Harry slid out of his chair, grabbed her shoulder, and pushed more prana than last time.

Pansy shook for about a minute, that time. Harry grabbed her hand just as she came out of it.

"Ugh, you made me bite my tongue!" Even as she complained she was looking at him nervously.

"Collateral damage," Harry said calmly. "You shouldn't start a game if you can't go without a win, Parkinson." He traced her palm with his thumb. She looked at her hand like it was a snake.

"What do you want, Potter," she said bitingly.

"You can tell me what Malfoy, or anyone else, says about me in the future, for one," Harry said. "Other than that… I don't suppose Slytherin has a library?" He looked up at her inquisitively.

"Fine, I'll tell you whatever, let go of my hand," she said, pulling her hand away. "Slytherin has a small library. Nothing like Ravenclaw, I'm sure. Probably more useful. What about it."

"Just curious." Harry smiled at her.

"Yeah… whatever." Pansy got up and moved towards the door. She stopped halfway through.

"I'll figure you out, Potter," she said as she slipped out.

Harry sat in the room for a while, thinking.

* * *

chapter end

A/N:

A guest commented about Medea's legend, suggesting she cared too much about Harry and the cupboard and so on in ch1.

She didn't care about Harry. She was offended by the abuse on principle, because it was pointless, it did not and could not achieve anything. The Dursleys offended her because they were stupid. In fact, she didn't see them as any better than animals, hence her offering to kill them as a way to endear Harry, who was actually of some value.

It is true she murdered her own children in a popular version of her legend. However, there are various analysis's of that that suggest she had reasons that made sense to her in that era, reasons that do not apply here and definitely don't cover pointless abuse. Finally, popularity of a given version of the legend is irrelevant; spirits are from a "true" history, not just legend, or Arturia would be a dude.

...Still, given your interpretation came up at all. I went back and revised that paragraph. It should be better now.

Prana seizure looted from "SV steps into the Moonlit World (Nasuverse Quest)".

I've tried to add more description around dialogue in this chapter. Criticism would help here. In the other direction, I still think I put too much fluff in my sentences sometimes.

Also, question: For the purposes of extracting [verifiable] information from an unwilling subject, would you say the threat of pain, or the withholding of pleasure is more effective? This will become more relevant eventually.


End file.
